And the Eagle Wept

Oh my country, cast adrift,

draped in mourning weeds.

Why have all your children gone

Off to war so far from home?

While on this celebrated day,

when vibrant colors fill the sky,

grieving mothers in their hands

clutch a neatly folded flag.

Shrouded now in sadness,

voices wailing in the night,

prayers unanswered or unheard

echo through the land.

While we weigh the cost of changing

those so far removed,

the blood of innocents 

dries on foreign sands.

Our voices raised do now implore:

Bring our sons and daughters home,

where tended by our loving hearts,

their wounded souls can heal.