Angels of Steel

The angels cry when warriors die,

In distant lands where troubles lie.

Where sadness grows with each new day

and sorrow is not far away.


We fly on planes to reach this place

where death abides within its space.

There is no choice where I may fight

I only trust that it be right.

Each day I wake and say a prayer

to keep us safe and in God’s care.

Yet, knowing well some will not live

and others may not soon forgive.


The wop wop of the copter blades

Will drop their cargo, then they fade.

Into the distant sky they fly

with lifeless bags inside do lie.


Like steel angels from above

they bring supplies, our families’ love.

And carry wounded from the field

to places where they may be healed.


So many lost, did not return,

Their final end we’ve never learned.

For years we looked without success

Perhaps today they are at rest.


The scars remain within my soul

that haunts my mind and leaves a hole.

Where once the innocence of youth

was buried by the wrath of Zeus.


The bloody battles the heart must bear

my mind cannot forget the terror.

But life goes on and must exist

for strength and honor to persist.


And angels cry when warriors die,

In distant lands where troubles lie.

They hold the hope that peace will be

through freedom and democracy.

Across our country warriors ride

on bikes of steel with humbled pride.

To honor those who gave so much

and not forget the lives they’ve touched.


The flag of glory carried high

through miles and miles of endless sky.

Reminding all of freedom’s costs,

a precious message not to be lost.

 -Janet J. Seahorn, Ph.D

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