Their faces float across the screen
my eyes bouncing from left to right
as the names are being read aloud.
I’m sitting on the floor,
and usually when I’m watching TV
I slouch, I lay back,
but not this time.
For this forty minute broadcast
of the names and faces
of the fallen soldiers
who fought our latest war
I am compelled by gratitude,
frustration, and sorrow
to sit straight up,
stark and still
as the soldiers who stand at attention
and salute when the commander-in-chief walks by.
My body’s not used to it.
In fact, it prefers it’s late night slouch
but now is not the time for slouching.
Now is the time for sitting up straight
and paying attention to the roll call.
I sit cross-legged on the floor
and focus on their eyes as I listen.
Tom, Lori, Brian, Jose, Michael, Christine, Ahmed, Loretta, Frank, Joseph, Armando.
I search their faces for what I can see
watching big smiles in ceremonial dress and camouflage.
I try to imagine them at their best
and happy.
Mostly it works, but a few bloody poses
sneak into my head and I push my back
a little straighter.
When the names are done,
and all the faces gone by
I stand and salute.
I am a civilian, and I do it anyway.
Not for show or silly ritual,
but to say thanks
for putting the uniform on.
So others might not have to.
© 2004 Garland Lee Thompson Jr.
