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To the Mothers of the Fallen ~
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Friends & Family
To the Mothers of the Fallen ~
<font face="arial,helvetica,sans-serif" size="1">Grandparents, parents, aunties and uncles — As the song says, we are fa-mi-ly. Here’s where you brag about your grandchildren. Yeah, we know. They are cuties.</font>
To the Mothers of the Fallen by Charles L. Cingolani It is the season of the barren trees The gossamer that floats over the damp sod. This is the time when mothers don black dresses Walk across the f
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Cat:8548aeff-cf8c-4e73-ad17-e0a4380e2232Forum:a47c5bda-a19a-4b46-bc7f-cfd0802bd1a8
Cat:8548aeff-cf8c-4e73-ad17-e0a4380e2232Forum:a47c5bda-a19a-4b46-bc7f-cfd0802bd1a8Discussion:a56c4110-c551-4078-85d9-e9ad00779756
Forums » Relationships » Friends & Family » To the Mothers of the Fallen ~
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To the Mothers of the Fallen ~
posted at August 25, 2012 2:46 PM EDT
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Posts: 8
First: September 12, 2011 Last: May 22, 2013 |
To the Mothers of the Fallen by Charles L. Cingolani It is the season of the barren trees The gossamer that floats over the damp sod. This is the time when mothers don black dresses Walk across the frozen turf to the gaping womb That awaits their sons. We stand aloof inventing their grief To suit our souls yet untouched by the ruthless wrench, Watching their silken veils flutter in the wind. Do not stand, Mother. Sit and let the tears fall in salty streams Across your streaked wearied face, Taste the salt of tears and wail loud Across deaf space to the uncaring trees. No pain greater than yours On losing your son—to have to offer him To unkind war, the thief that tore him From your breast. What collision will the loss Of your synchronized heartbeats Bring about? There is no solace, no word, no comfort To take away the gnaw of loss You have encountered. Near you we sit weeping, Reaching for your hands. |
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Re: To the Mothers of the Fallen ~
posted at August 26, 2012 1:02 PM EDT
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Posts: 1038
First: September 16, 2011 Last: June 18, 2013 |
In Response to To the Mothers of the Fallen ~: To the Mothers of the Fallen by Charles L. Cingolani It is the season of the barren trees The gossamer that floats over the damp sod. This is the time when mothers don black dresses Walk across the frozen turf to the gaping womb That awaits their sons. We stand aloof inventing their grief To suit our souls yet untouched by the ruthless wrench, Watching their silken veils flutter in the wind. Do not stand, Mother. Sit and let the tears fall in salty streams Across your streaked wearied face, Taste the salt of tears and wail loud Across deaf space to the uncaring trees. No pain greater than yours On losing your son—to have to offer him To unkind war, the thief that tore him From your breast. What collision will the loss Of your synchronized heartbeats Bring about? There is no solace, no word, no comfort To take away the gnaw of loss You have encountered. Near you we sit weeping, Reaching for your hands. Posted by CharlesLouis96 Thank you for sharing that wrenching poem, CharlesLouis96. There are others ,like you, who pay tribute to the fallen heroes with their talents: http://www.youtube.com/watch_popup?v=lRGWUFEeXZw&vq=medium |
Forums » Relationships » Friends & Family » To the Mothers of the Fallen ~
