The Last Veteran
He was silent, stately, and somber as he stood
watch over the tomb;
his once bright rifle turned burnt umber by
endless hours of wind, sun, and storm.
He felt the tug of time upon his hero’s breast.
Gone was the shine of youth
and in its place hung wrinkled flesh; shaken with
palsy, decayed and pale.
Duty was all that sustained him as long days pasted
into unrelenting years.
His promise to be faithful
to
this solitary task; forsworn in an oath made upon blood,
was the recompense he granted the fallen, in obedience for the relinquishment life.
He was proud to stand the watch on ground made
hallowed by the lost.
The echo of his footsteps growing faint by fatigue
repeats against the graying stone,
which once
gleamed white like snow and glimmered in the sunlight.
The soiled russet carpet ripped
and worn threadbare by his erratic tread
a poor vestige of its former glory marks the
margins of his endless journey.
The sordid sight of decay upon the scene, brings tears to dimming eyes,
forgotten without a future, in reverence yet he strides.
There are no other veterans to replace him but he courageously
struggles on,
till soon he sleeps forever and the legacy of such fidelity and honor
become a
glorious myth of ancient days long gone.
Written by Mark R. Day on 11-5-12, Copyright by
Mark R. Day 11-5-12 all rights reserved
Background
for the poem. The idea for this poem
came out of a conversation between myself and a fellow teacher. The teacher and I were talking about the
upcoming Veterans Day and she expressed sadness over the fact there were so few
veterans at our school. This made me
think about the fact that only 1% of the population will be veterans in the
future and I wondered what the future might hold for veterans. This poem is about the last veteran and his
devotion to guarding the tomb of the unknowns.
