I passed our brother’s cross today

There on the corner where he died

Just seventeen

In the wrong place at the wrong time


Yesterday i saw

That old ghost bike

Along the road

where Sammi died

One May morning


Last week

I passed our sisters cross downtown

Painted pink on a light post

So we all remember

Even though so many will forget


A month ago

I saw those nineteen crosses

Up in the hills

Among the new growth

For saving strangers homes


Down by the shore

Tomorrow I will plant

Two flags and flowers

Where those strangers washed ashore

They have no family here so someone must


We must keep faith

With those who die

No matter when or where

In the mud a world away

Or down the block


Let us now praise

Unknown men


This entry was posted in American History, Monuments and Memorials, Poetry, Social Justice, The Wandering Yankee and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

3 Responses to Crosses

  1. Jonny Eberle says:

    This is beautiful and haunting. Well done.

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