On a Death in Iraq

Poem on a death

Be careful my last words, how trite
Red white and blue raised on every hand
A blacked crater and twisted metal
Red white and blue raised on every hand
Children dancing around your name upraised
Red white and blue raised on every hand
Rain, redstone walls, and green glass
Red white and blue raised on every hand
Faces in uniform hiding their youth, their tears
Red white and blue raised on every hand
Young unsure marching steps and a bugle
Red white and blue raised on every hand
No difference did I make
Red white and blue raised on every hand