A Comic Book Hero For My Daughter
Hard lessons are taught to us by war. We lose the best to the hunger of war and hate.
He came home in a box.
What could I say. Nothing.
I squeezed her long and hard.
He’d served his country proud.
But had they served him back?
I see this flag I once believed in
draped so perfectly upon a casket,
black like a memory of my nation;
just what happened to it, when did
we go wrong, or should I ask,
where did we leave off the task
as old Walt once asked of democracy;
when did we think oil more important
than our boys so sadly dying in those worlds?
We seem to be at blame, for giving in
to such reasoning of men as our leaders;
and, they’ve once again deceived us,
let us down, put a man in the ground.
What should I tell my daughter?
Should I say we’ll find a comic book
hero that can put an end to this?
Some guy dressed up in a cape,
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