Jared Podsednik 5/30/16 8:43pm
Memorial Day
You wake in the morning to the smell of coffee and walk out wearing your house shoes to get the NEWSPAPER thrown at your door,
While a SOLDIER is being held for a ransom the only thing left to read on the front page is THEY’RE name, Not hearing the yellow cab hours before. They gave up knocking on your door.
You toss his last message, his last words pulled from his pocket by his brother that HE promised to give you if he didn't return,
before he tried to escape out the door. Americans EVERY DAY fail to remind themselves it's the forgotten soldiers that
keep you waking up to a safe day.
His blood is left on her photo, before he bowed to his knees.
About the Creator
Podzilla
follow your dreams, Not your nightmares
Spectating
I can't imagine dying like this, in a place like this; on a cold, dirty pavement with rush hour traffic screaming by and a crowd looking on while paramedics struggle to find space to move. Who could? Deep down we all think there should be a reason, a moment of clarity... or a family presence, at least. For this man, this boy, the rail thin woman lighting a cigarette in a faux fur jacket will have to do - she's been here since the start, her eyes tracking the movement of my shoulders as we fight to keep him on the right side of the line.
By S. A. Crawford5 days ago in Fiction
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