I do not know where you lie.
Yet I see this small tin piece every day now.
This piece of metal that is your identity,
your history.
This small tin piece lays upon his chest daily.
He too does not know you.
The shared eyes of the father and son
never blessed to fall upon one another.
I lay silently in the dim light rubbing
the metal between my fingers as he stirs.
I press the cold to my lips.
I know that I hold his most prized possession.
I know I hold his pain and his pride
in this small tin piece.
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| Chicago Museum of Veterans Art |
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