Mitchell Browder

Brothers and sisters at rest
we never forget
the gift you give
we still receive

how could you know
so young
that your battle
at all cost
must be won

Brothers and sisters at rest
may we, in your eyes
pass your test
and one day, with honor
join your ranks

I have built this machine with bleeding hands.
I have shaped it to slice the wind.
I have shined it with polish and sweat.
I have balanced it with feel
and powered it with iron and steel.
I will become one with it and give it life.
I will know the wind like the falcon.
I will know speed like the cheetah.
I will not have fear
for this is where my spirit is free.

I picked up a brush
and 80 bucks worth of paint.
After a few tries, I know
that kind of artist I ain't.

So I will paint a picture
in your head
with the words
that I write instead.

I'll start with the sky...
use your imagination
blue, blue like
the first day of summer vacation.

Next is the grass,
tall and green.
The breeze makes it wave
and the sun makes it sheen.

Just beyond the grass
are the sand dunes
and just above that
a seagull looms.

The air is sweet
with the scent of the ocean
and the coconut
in my suntan lotion.

The sun is warm
and bright.
I have to squint to see
that little boy's kite.

I crest the dune,
and there is the sea.
The waves crash and foam
and softly roar at me.

I wade in; it is quite cold.
Now let's sign this in the sand
where the waves hit the shore
and sea meets the air and the land.

Now step back and look.
What a wonderful view!
And the canvas can go wherever
because it is in you.