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Memorial DayPoetry by Luke Easter Salem-News.com
Remember what it is actually about.
(CLEVELAND) - As another Memorial Day dawns in America, many might wonder about the origin of this sacred day and why it came to be a widely observed national holiday.
It turns out that the holiday was originally called “Decoration Day” and it was tied to the hymn, “Kneel Where Our Loves are Sleeping,” by Nella L. Sweet, dedicated to Confederate War Dead.
That aside, this day in the minds of most Americans, is about remembering those who served this country in uniform, or is it? They know it, and they also know it means time off from work, family activities and sports on TV.
The real meaning of the day in its intended form, becomes a bit murky, and that is sad because American politics continue to generate War Dead and many believe it is not necessary, but it is factual, and the deaths are very real to the families who paid the ultimate price.
Please consider the selfless qualities of those willing to wear a uniform and do their nation's bidding. Their sacrifices are too immense to easily forget or dismiss.
220 MPH! Faster and faster around this oval track,
Luke Easter is a poet who writes about things that are very close to the heart of Salem-News.com. Another former U.S. Marine, Luke heals the world with an approach that reaches people on a different level, one known for centuries, yet too often forgotten in the one we live in.
We live in a world of social & economic injustice. The main reason for founding America in the first place was to relieve the oppression of the King of England. Patrick Henry said it best, “give me liberty or give me death.” And yet, all too often death seems to be the only way out. Why is there such a high suicide rate especially among teens, in the land of the free & the home of the brave? What makes headlines? Good news? Ha! More depressing stories than anything else. I feel poetry takes an edge off the hurt of bad news while still delivering it but in a, “glitzy” sort of way. Giving a different perspective. Kind of like slap in the face as opposed to a knife in the back. At least with the slap you’ll live to see another day and you will know whom it’s from. I wasn’t here for the beginning of the world but at 59, I just might be here for the end.
Even though it’s still a knife, rhyme poetry helps to dull the blade. And that’s my job. You can write to Luke Easter at: firstname.lastname@example.org
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