We speak of battles bravely fought
on this Remembrance day.
We speak of those who went to war
and gave their lives away.
It’s right that we remember them,
and raise Old Glory high.
It’s right to speak of daring deeds,
for comrades now to cry.
But there are other battles fought
on nearer fields of war;
and there are other soldiers brave
that mothers sorrow for.
The footstep stilled, the smile of love
upon a dear one’s face;
a mother’s empty arms that long
to know her son’s embrace.
No golden medals lie agleam
in velvet boxes now;
No name engraved upon a plaque
or on a hallowed wall.
But God saw silent battles waged
and victories grimly won;
and I know a crown sits on the brow
of this mother’s fallen son.
We’re told to lay up treasure
at Heaven’s golden gate,
where moth and rust do not corrupt
nor thieves break through and take.
And there is treasure laid up now
so precious and so dear
that life itself cannot compare
to what is waiting there.
(Goodbye, my son, we’ll see you in the morning!)
Memorial Day, 2002