As he lay dying,
He didn’t think of his country.
He thought of his mother
And the tears she would shed
As she buried her only son.
She always told him
Take care of yourself, Albert.
Come home
To people that love you.
He did not think of the country he was giving his life for.
He did not think of the rhetoric of politicians.
He did not think that God wanted this war.
He thought of his girlfriend
The girl he loved since sixth grade
But only got up the nerve
To ask her out a year ago.
He thought of her smile
That was often followed by giddy laughter
In response to something silly he did.
He thought of her deep brown eyes
That would make the rest of the world melt away
And made his heart both weak and strong.
He did not think of the country he was giving his life for.
He did not think of the minimum wage.
He did not think of bathrooms or wedding cakes.
He thought of his kid brother
Barely in his teens and
Already getting into trouble.
Who will teach him life’s lessons,
While playing basketball
On the court set up in their driveway?
Who will keep him in line,
While giving him space to grow?
He did not think of the country he was giving his life for.
He did not think of the racism or the crime in the streets.
He did not think of the hatred of the stranger in the land of liberty.
He thought of many things.
He thought of the people he loved,
Their words, their smiles, their laughter.
And then he thought no more.
And we, whom he died for,
Think of bathrooms and wedding cakes.
And listen to the venomous rhetoric of our politicians.
And moan that the weather did not cooperate for our barbecue.
And haggle at car dealerships with salesmen
As they look for their next customer.
We, whom he died for, hardly ever
Think of the soldiers
Whose last moments
Were alone
But filled with memories
Of meaning.
