"Bombs Away!" The pilot banks his Flying Fortress And heads back to England. V-E Day! And everyone cheers When he comes home In his bemedaled uniform. But no one cheers When his son comes home. He takes off his uniform. "Peter, put away your sword." So I never drew mine And thought they were guilty. Now, though, I'm called To care for his soul, Elderly and stately, Confused, forgetful and innocent. No longer is it the time To confront guilt, Assigned rightly or wrongly. No longer is it the time To have a stand. Now it's the time For presence and honor ... For his world of flag waving, For his values of patriotism, And let go and let God sort it out.
©2011, John A. Mills