I received a letter from Beatrice Mitchell, an 81 year old mother of a Vietnam veteran. She sent me some articles and documents saying,”I offer this in the spirit of honor due our military men and women and their families whose sacrifices will always remain unmeasurable.” This poem is written by Beatrice. Please hold our servicemen and women and our veterans in prayer, especially those who are not able to be home for the holidays.
She carried him gently, without haste
In her arms to his resting place.
Things that could hurt him
And things he could break
She kept out of reach when her babe
“Don’t talk to strangers nor accept a treat
Look both ways before you cross the street
And stay out of puddles on your way to school
Remember to follow the Golden Rule.”
A young man now, on his way to the prom.
A boy only yesterday, where had the years gone?
“Look out for that curve on old Mill Road.
Drive carefully son and don’t overload.”
Her prayers for him that also blessed us,
She whispered for him as he left on the bus.
The unshed tears that shown in her eyes
Were bravely withheld through her smiles and goodbyes.
Like great birds that hover when life’s returning to dust
The Black Hawks of mercy did not for flesh lust
When after the battle they plucked from the ground
The dead and the wounded from Vietnam.
No cautions for him on Mill Road today.
His car moved slowly as he passed that way
In a heavy box, draped in triad hue
They carefully folded the red, white, and blue
And placed it in her arms, now with tears on her face
She carried it gently as a babe to his resting place.