I understand why we protect the wildflowers now.A Poem by Coyote PoetryWildflowers are protected in Michigan. Took me years to understand why.
I understand why we protect the wildflowers now.
I sit on the hill in the midst of a wildflower field. Small flowers moving in the gentle breeze. I sit at bay from a good friend grave. I came to tell him that, I was alright. His death broke me down. I stayed home and he went to war alone. We were comrades in many battles for 12 years. Raised our children together. He joined the National Guard and I was tire of war. The howling storm of war. Took my friend on three tours in Iraq. A roll-over in Iraq took a father of two beautiful girl . On the final journey. I hear the leader's telling me. God is on our side. This war is worth the blood of our men and woman. I lay with the wildflowers. Allowing them to take me to a better place. I see my friend face. I remember his smile and can hear his laughter when I close my eyes. I know what he would tell me. "What done is done. Take care of my babies and don't cry for me. I died for love, freedom and the untried. War is hell. Don't let my children forget how much I loved them." My friend loved the country. He lived in a small town who cried a thousand tears for him at his funeral. Now his grave is decorated with a bronze star and fresh flowers from his daughter. I planted wildflowers seeds around his grave. Drank two miller's beer and left four for him. I whispered to the wind. "Please take care of a good Soldier and friend." The wildflowers are dancing in the breeze. I looked at the wildflowers, free and uncontrolled. I think it is good to be like a wildflower. Never be locked in or forgotten. I understand now why we protect the wildflowers. I salute my friend's grave. Do a silence prayer and whisper. "I will insure you will not be forgotten." Coyote John Castellenas 2013 © 2013 Coyote PoetryAuthor's Note
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Added on January 8, 2013Last Updated on January 8, 2013 AuthorCoyote PoetryMIAboutA Poet and writer who love to read and write. My pleasure is reading about the bad and good in a life. Also to honor the Poets/Writers of the past by reading their words. Remember .. more..Writing
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