The Cost of Freedom

         Forsworn duty, by birth of all, to protect.

         Costly, drenched in:

         Streaming from hard working laborers,

         Washed into the fabric of our history.

         Energy and toil shaping our national psyche,

         A job well done, no matter what the job.

         Teaching this ethic to our young.

         

         Bright red, seeping into war-torn landscapes,

         Life of the soldier spilled for our nation.

         Offerings to the God(s) of one’s choice.

         Owed to, for and from all, to pay the

         Debt of freedom.

         

         Teeming forth from broken men.

         Emanating from frantic mothers,

         Awaiting news of their soldier – children.

         Ripped from the souls of grieving families,

         Shaping the next generation with sacrifice.

         

         It isn’t free, this freedom of ours,

         Never has been and never will be.

         I have a reminder, a warning to heed:

         It is the soldier, who protects the protester,

         The protester’s right to speak their minds,

         Even if they protest against the uniform we wear.

         You would do well to remember:

         Woe be to our foe

         While we bravely pay freedom’s price.

         But woe be to us when we forget,

         When we take freedom for granted,

         Or assume it is given like welfare:

         Easily handed out, lacking blood, sweat and tears.