I am a whisper on the wind, of times past, of places long forgotton. . .
Valley Forge, Gettysburg, Pearl Harbor, Normandy, A Shau, Saigon, Laos
Cambodia, Kuwait, Bosnia.
I am the heart of countless numbers of scarred and maimed veterans,
and the soul of the buried unknown.

I am an integral part of each white cross in Flanders Field. . .
and am sealed within each name on THE WALL. I am part of each
and every headstone, either real or imagined,
of every American soldier in every burial place in the world.

I am deeply enmeshed in each tiny undiscovered bone fragment
of American soldiers. . .left behind on foreign soil.
I am the unseen shadows, the unheard voices in those many empty cells,
cages, compounds and camps, that once held my brothers
in unspeakable torture.

I am the unbearable pain in the hearts of every mother, father, wife,
sister, brother and child. . .
of missing American soldiers from all wars.
I am within each drop of blood the soldiers shed,
and I am within each of the millions of tears shed in their behalf.

I am the essence of each cry of pain, each bead of sweat,
each moment of death. . .of each and every American soldier
of the past or future.
I am the lifeblood of the colors of the American flag,
blue for my loyalty, white for my steadfastness, red for my pride.

I am the spirit of those many names on the black granite wall. . .
of those unaccounted for from all wars,
of those who went away to war as gallant young men and women,
and came back, older than time. . .OR NOT AT ALL.

I AM . . . THE SPIRIT OF THE AMERICAN SOLDIER