The Empty Chair…

Death sings sorrow to an

immortal sphere, songs of

battle fills our eyes with tears,

young are the men and women,

steady and bright, how many

of their lives will be taken tonight.

Many will fall to the foe, odds

uncounted, yet with a command

they go, the odds known, that they

shall never grow old, some will

argue war and condemn, but they

are not the ones who will remember



A mother mourns for the flesh of her

flesh, the spirit of her spirit, fallen in the

cause to help others from tyranny be


They will sit no more at the familiar

tables at home, they lay fallen in a land

to some unknown, from their families

forever hidden out of sight, and there

will be an ‘empty chair” at their

mothers’ table tonight.







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