five more casualties reported on CNN
boys slaughtered in wars they don’t believe in
i look across the lunch table at my friends,
laughing carelessly as they plan their weekends
nineteen, twenty, twenty-one,
loving hands that never held a gun
raising first beers to toast new years,
not fallen brothers and grieving mothers
they march in bands, not foreign lands
lost the home game, but the home still stands
their trumpets play no requiems
throwing footballs, not hand grenades
where no one dies from a fumbled play
where men fall down, but rise again
my friends breathe the blessing of another minute’s air
for boyhood and brotherhood, i send up a prayer:
such beautiful eyes should not yet close for eternity
such vibrant souls cannot yet go to the final gates
such laughing mouths should not scream in last anguish
reaper, i beseech you to wait
such gentle hands should cradle lovers, babes, grandchildren
such untamed hair should fade from brown to white
such passionate hearts should beat a hundred years
reaper, their youth is their right
this boy’s body should record a lifetime of memories
until wrinkles draw maps across every inch of his skin
like a traveler’s diary of the places he’s been
until he’s seen enough worlds to fill his tired heart
and he reclines gratefully into the earth’s green embrace
and drifts away to the reward of God’s welcoming face
may he leave a legacy, not a void
may he die an elder, not a boy
