I have a name. Hear it thunder.
It rumbles across the stone symbols,
so many steeples, and it leaps spire to spire
farther and higher, across the many roofs, the wires,
maybe understood only by a beloved dove,
for of that flier I did dream, maybe by Grace
to be worthy so to protect what all children should love.
I have left this earth of me.
Some thought it was the best of me.
Just bone barely connected to bone.
There is so much more. I have a name. Still.
Even if unknown.
Hear it thunder in footsteps guard.
Hear it tremble in their hearts.
Hear it pitter and patter upon marble in rain,
theirs God-given just the same.
Hear it clear in silence.
Hear it loud in the gaps,
in the wide open fields between the notes,
between the friction, enabled by mercy to be
shared in the tongue of Taps to universally speak.
Not one of us is alone.
Brothers and sisters, children too have come and gone.
Fears rapture our numbered years and many may meander.
Of these countless lives, who will remember?
All seem to end.
Yet, reverent, you look upon me as you should.
I embody your gift, life never taken for granted,
magnificence that heaven created.
Until the day we resplendently meet,
see me, see you, see all of humanity
beneath this stone façade.
Here rests in honored glory
a soldier known but to God.
Poet's Notes about The Poem
Comments about this poem (Unknown by Joe Bisicchia )
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