It's not much, and I'm no poet, but I woke this morning to the anniversary feeling as if I needed to write something on this day, five years on, with the 4000th U.S. fatality likely to occur in the coming days.
4000 holes never to be filled,
4000 ends barely begun;
4000 heartbeats rendered still,
4000 bugles play Day Is Done.
*
4000 coffins lined four miles,
4000 names read aloud four hours;
4000 roars gone suddenly silent,
4000 futures never to flower.
*
4000 lidden down 'neath stars and stripes,
4000 bells never unrung;
4000 returned home 'neath cover of night,
4000 good things left undone.
*
4000 two a day five years and counting,
4000 funerals many years too soon;
4000 gone and numbers mounting,
4000 glories 'neath granite and wood.