Ewald Coet

Soldier

I saw a burial with a bugler playing taps;
     I turned to my father, “what happened?” I asked.
He clutched my hand and with a quiver in his voice,
     he began to explain and his eyes became moist.


“My son,” he said, “this is rather difficult for me;
     for an old veteran like myself this is tough to see.
In that coffin lies a genuine patriotic warrior,
     an honest-to-God hero, an American soldier.


I appreciate that soldier and the service he gave,
     and I honor his sacrifice as he’s laid in his grave.
He was honorable, selfless, courageous, and bold;
     please remember him son, as you grow old.


The value of his service, I must explain,
     if not remembered, will be lost in vain.
As a nation we’re nothing without soldiers like him;
     and failing to remember would be a terrible sin.”


I listened in awe as my father spoke,
     it seemed as if his heart were broke.
I suddenly remembered when he went to war,
     and when he returned I thought nothing more.


I never asked why he walked with a limp,
     and I didn’t care about why he was sick.
I was to busy enjoying the life that I had,
     to realize that I had it because of dad.


I finally understood what my dad was about,
     and it hurt so bad I cried out loud.
He sacrificed so much so I could be free,
     and his battle scares were suffered for me.


It was my father’s spirit that spoke to me that day;
     thank God I finally understood what he had to say.
I saluted his coffin as they laid him to rest,
     and I thought about the medals pinned on his chest.


That I didn’t honor him sooner, I will always regret;
     and I pledged that day to never again forget.
I’m proud that my dad was a patriotic warrior;
     I’m honored to be the son of an American soldier.