To Raise

Wander into a local higher HQ building near here (and I suspect this is true of more than one) and one of the first things you'll see is a memorial to the fallen, backdropped by a continuously scrolling slideshow with photos and information on Division's latest casualties of war. The faces represent a cross section of America, many are heartbreakingly young, and many of those who aren't leave young children behind. Each day new fathers without sons, and sons without fathers. Look hard enough at the screens and you'll see your own face looking back.

I'll pause on the occassions I visit higher, and I'm rarely alone in doing so. And I'll remain in that spot until I've seen every face, and felt the tearing of my heart from my chest. In the workaday bustle of that place, simultaneously in the midst and far removed from the grimmer aspects of this conflict, it would be easy to forget the far different reality that exists not far geographically away. But there the very familiar faces of the fallen bid greeting and farewell to those who would make decisions that will ultimately result in others joining their ranks.

One needn't wonder what they might say, given the chance. Their actions spoke louder and more powerfully than words ever could.

Some distant sunset, vision fading
Memories remain
And tired eyes gaze 'pon folded flags
While distant drums beat their refrain

Saluting fallen friends whose names
And youth will never fade
Here's to those on other shores,
for them live well, the price is paid

- Greyhawk,
-- Iraq, December 2004