Blood Stained Coast Guard Uniform

“The Bloodied Rank”

His rank bore the weight of blood,
Stained deep into the fabric of his soul,
A rescuer who stood alone,
With courage that defied the toll.

Hurricane Sandy had come and gone,
But the chaos lingered, relentless and raw,
Two buildings, filled with lives at stake,
His hands were steady, no room for awe.

Red Cross volunteers flinched in fear,
At the sight of him, bloodied and true,
His uniform marked with sacrifice,
A warrior forged from what he knew.

Three hundred thirty lives in his care,
Through flooded streets, he did not pause,
He carried them, through wind and rain,
No thought for the cost, no second loss.

Then came the Marine officer’s command,
A reprimand that cut through the storm,
“Clean up your act, regain your form,”
But the rescuer stood—his heart, forlorn.

His eyes were cold, his soul untamed,
The officer’s words fell into the night,
For the blood on his rank told the tale,
Of the battles fought, and the price of flight.

The rescuer had seen death’s face,
Had watched the waves of life recede,
He was more than rank, more than orders,
He was a man who had learned to bleed.

His hands were stained with more than blood,
They carried memories too heavy to bear,
But in that moment, standing tall,
He wore his blood with silent care.

No words needed to prove his worth,
No formalities to bend or break,
His blood on the uniform was a badge,
A reminder of what he could take.

A thousand-yard stare, unblinking, firm,
The officer’s reprimand lost in the air,
For the rescuer knew his true command,
Was the blood on his rank, and the lives he’d spared.

So he stood, unwavering, in the aftermath,
His rank a symbol, not of shame, but strength,
A man who had faced the storm’s wrath,
And came out the other side, unchanged.