Field of Heroes
At my back is the colonnade of the Mansion Lee,
Sprawling before me, a free nation’s capital I see.
Just below this dwelling high
Beneath an eternal flame a president and his family lie.
It’s a fitting place for a president to be
Surrounded by the hero spirits of the free.
Not so far from this majestic home,
In Napoleonic alignment stand many rows of stone
Bearing a simple inscription, Union Soldier – Unknown.
Heroes of the free who never made it home.
A fitting place for these souls to rest,
Guardians still of this world’s best.
A horse drawn caisson passes by,
The sounding of Taps tears the eye.
With the blast of guns twenty-one,
To these fields of honor another hero comes.
It’s a fitting place for an eternal home,
Surrounded by brothers and sisters of arms.
Marble and granite stand in contrast to green sod,
Honoring those known but to their God.
A guard of honor walks precise
Ever present sun or ice.
It’s fitting homage to the souls,
Of these unknown heroes who gave all.
Twenty-one steps this guard of honor takes,
In twenty-one seconds his journey he makes.
For twenty-one seconds he will pause,
Honoring those who had a cause.
Quiet and peaceful are these fields of green,
A spiritual place, calm, serene.
And as I feel their cooling breeze the spirits know
Humbly I stand midst a field of heroes.
© J. D. Pendry