and with us it is to find that place
the silence of our own salvation
in the moments ,
heartbeats
drummers . . . taps
the sweet salutation, mother
but we find it – lose it – and find once again
that sweet salute
“my boys, my boys”
She is crying as they march away
Not even hers, not any longer
Clutching to her, breast and heart
The paper then
So wet, she’s crying
And I hold her, and I know her
But I too will stand and fight
And I too will hold this drum beat
Heart beat
Solemn invocation of a national vocation
In the silence of the space between oath and
Salutation . . .
With us it is to find that place
With us it is to find that peace
Between a mother’s love
And soldier’s place
I hold her once, a moment longer
Then standing
Move away
And off to
War