He never really came home that young father, age twenty-three
who answered call on 911. He had to enlist, he'd said.
His parents sent him off, hoping to see him again
after he graduated from boot camp.
She never really came home that female cadet from West Point
who fired expert, but was shot in the back by a coward.
They never really came home, the men of the 44th whose names
grace that long and low black wall in the Capitol.
Home is family, love, and safety.
These, of the many, got white crosses
and hallowed ground, but it isn't the same.
I served my time, willingly, because it was and is important,
because my grandfather and my father did,
and because maybe,someday,
people will see that Memorial Day is more, far more,
than a three-day weekend devoted to hot dogs and corn on the cob.
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