To honor a martyr

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What could I give those,
who gave their everything.
What meager award do I
lay at their hallowed feet.
What words could honor
their sleepless nights.
What actions could match
their peerless sacrifice.
How many tears must I shed
to equal their sacred blood.
Given freely, without question
in exchange for my peaceful rest.
And now the martyr,
who yesterday stood.
Sleeps the sleep of the well deserved.
In casket of wood.
And I stand, dumbfounded,
that someone like him once
walked this earth,
this peerless, selfless soldier.
And so, in quiet, I stand,
with empty hand.
With insufficient words to lay
upon cold ground.
His flag I do salute
as she flies proudly above
his final resting place.
Her chest, bursting with pride,
the mother welcomes her son home.

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