a poem for my own dear cousin and uncle who we lost to the war in Afganistan. |
Part of a Plan I feel the tears falling before i know whats going on I reach out beside me for support But i cant feel anyting to hold As more tears start to fall i feel myself wobble As i drop to my knees and put my head in my hands I think to myself How can this be happening? It wasnt part of the plan I walk out in front of the crowded room With my family by my side As i look out towards the blurry crowd I realize ive started to cry I take my seat and listen as the music plays As i wipe away my tears i ask myself How can this be happening? It wasnt part of the plan. I reach for my grandpa as the trumpets begin to play I bury my face in his shirt until the horrible noise goes away As i look up i can see this man with a flag The flag is folded into a triangle and hes handing it to my aunt I can hear her cries and see her shakey hands I know exactly what she is thinking How can this be happening? It wasnt part of the plan. As we walk out to his gravesite I try to hold back my tears I kneel down next to the fresh mound of dirt And run my hands over his name As i silently thank my american hero I realize i now know why. I know why this has happened... It was all part of a plan. |