Something really special just happend…Allen, one of my Veteran friends who helped me with research on WWII for my Liberator Series just sent a note letting me know that Bob, one of his close buddies from the 11th Armored Division, had just died…he was 85. Allen told me, “Because of our age Natalie and I do not travel long distances any longer, but Bob’s widow, Betty, sent us a copy of the pamphlet passed out at the funeral, and as we looked it over on the back page was your wonderful and inspiring poem, “My Heroes.” Natalie noticed it before I did and immediately remembered your name and that we had corresponded. So, in this small way, Tricia, you have once again entered my life.”
Wow…that blew me away.
(c) Tricia Goyer
I passed you on the street,
And did not know.
You are my grandfather,
And I did not ask.
I saw weak eyes,
Not realizing that inside was a warrior’s heart.
Tell me it is not too late, to thank you.
To applaud you.
Tell me it is not too late, to listen.
For your eyes have seen things,
Of soldiers and men.
And those hands,
Fought strong until they grasped freedom’s prize.
Those footsteps, steady and strong,
Once moved forward, facing death.
Realizing the cause was too great,
To stand and do nothing.
I will ask now.
And I will listen.
The warrior’s voice may tremble,
His eyes may tear.
But his stories will not be forgotten.