By Tricia Goyer
I passed you on the street,
And did not know.
You are my grandparent
My parent,
My uncle, friend
And I did not ask.
I saw weak eyes,
Shaky hands,
Unsure steps.
Not realizing that inside was a warrior's heart.
Tell me it is not too late, to thank you.
To applaud you.
Tell me it is not too late, to listen.
For your eyes have seen things,
Of soldiers and men.
And those hands,
Fought strong until they grasped freedom's prize.
Those footsteps, steady and strong,
Once moved forward, facing death.
Realizing the cause was too great,
To stand and do nothing.
I will ask now.
And I will listen.
The warrior's voice may tremble,
Eyes may tear.
But the stories will not be forgotten.
Tricia Goyer is a homeschooling mom of four and an acclaimed and prolific writer. You can find out more information about Tricia at www.triciagoyer.com
