White Crosses
Its an early
Autumn morning
Clouds of fog rise
From the river below
To settle high above
The pillaring
Limestone walls
In the morning sun
Brightly sunlit
Autumn leaves
Softly float
Gently tumble
Among row
After row
Of newly placed
White crosses
On another hill
Another war
Their graves long sealed
Its not if
But when
Another filled
Roy L. Nave, November, 2007
In honor of the ones who died in the Iraq/Afghanistan Wars
Camp Nelson Military Cemetery
Daily, for 12 years as I traveled down U.S. 27 to my farm, I watched a hillside being filled with white crosses marking the ones who gave their life that I might be free to enjoy living. I watched family and friends who came daily in their grief. There is truly a great cost to freedom.



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