The Staircase

Michael Brian Horton May 30, 2016

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Last night I had myself a dream
I still can see it now
A staircase stood before me
Spiraling up into the clouds
Its wood was worn and weathered
But had stood the tests of time
And I came upon a young man there
As I began to climb
His uniform colonial
His tri cornered hat pulled down
He said I fell by bayonet
Defending Charlestown
A few more steps into my climb
There stood another Lad
He said we gave them it all in 1812
With everything we had
As my journey went on upward
I came upon a pair
One dressed in blue and one in grey
I couldn’t help but stare
They had a sadness in their eyes
But their pride still brightly shown
Both rose to honor in defense
Of lands that they’d called home
They said they’d met at Vicksburg
And both had fell that day
But looking back they wished they’d found
A different better way
And as I ascended onward up
What I was being shown
Were those who’d answered freedoms call
And never made it home
One fell upon a German front
One in Korea’s hills
One in a jungle outside Saigon
His stories gave me chills
The next it seemed was just a kid
I scarcely could believe
He’d lost his life so long ago
On a beach called Normandy
And just before I reached the top
I met one last young man
Who served 3 tours but lost his life
Back in Afghanistan
And once my climb had ended
My feet touched every stair
As I looked up my eyes beheld
An angel standing there
He said this is the staircase
T’was built by Christ’s own hand
Reserved and blessed for only those
Who fell on hallowed land
With the wisdom of the ages
He spoke these words to me
Now I hope you understand
The cost of living free