Spirits
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Spirits
SpiritsShe first saw the shores of Europein early June of '44she'd trained for nursing in Bostonthen sailed the sea for flag and wara silver mist shrouded Londonas she sat in a pub that nightshe heard soldiers sing a war songand saw them toast a valiant fightthey sang with one voice, so heaven could hear itwith brave hearts full of red wine and spiritsshe closed the eyes of pale shadowsstrangled by their parachutesshe saw boys in rows of boxesletters for home in their bootsshe was stationed near the fightingnights were filled with mortar and bombsbut when wounded men awakenedher soothing voice kept them calmand if darkness called they didn't fear itthey went to their peace with fighting spiritsnow she holds a blue umbrellaagainst the light evening rainshe walks fields of stars and crossesfull of dates and ranks and namesshe wonders as twilight whispersand her mem'ries fill with moansis death in the sand more senselessthan life stories carved in stonesand like a war song, with haunting lyricsshe still hears the past, in their risen spirits(c)2004 Robert George
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