The Patriot Game (standard:poetry, 317 words)
Author: kendall thomas	Added: May 27 2001	Views/Reads: 3222/0	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
A father visits his son's grave.

The Patriot Game 

by Count Flarinsteingottielhorne 

. 

~I am the grass that covers all 

and sucks summer through their teeth.~ 

. 

I come to his grave beneath its bright pennon, 

but I do not wonder why he went.   I know. 

It is because he was young and didn’t believe that old men lie. 

That’s why young men die. 

. 

I stand by his grave and want to hold his hand once more, 

as I did when he was a child, to stare into his eyes and  to see his 

smile. 

But that can never be, for the game is done. 

. 

But I do not wonder why he went.  I know. 

Because he heard the siren call and believed it was Liberty that called.


And being young and naive, he wanted to fight for Victory and Glory-- 

but only the mountebanks have won. 

. 

I cannot speak to him; for he no longer hears; so I whisper to the grass


which covers all young men and sucks summer through their teeth: 

It is not your fault for having gone. 

It is ours who kept silent and let you go for fear of drawing attention 

to ourselves. 

It is to parents who would not say “No more; not this one, you evil 

bastards!” 

. 

But all are cowards when ‘Liberty’ raises her flaming sword, 

and the wealthy, like jaded whores, get richer off the blood that young 

men pour. 

And we pretend on Memorial Day that some great deed was done. 

But I stand above this grave and know that nothing’s won. 

. 

One smile again from my dead son would cancel out all the bombs 

that madmen have ever flung.  But the game is done. 

. 

Ah, 

how little I must have valued those trusting arms around my neck when 

he was young. 

. 

No more kisses for your daddy now. 

No more my warm, soft son. 


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