For the Coalition Dead

I wrote this back when the coalition body count reached 500.
On CNN's list of the deceased, a young African American man,
Sgt. Acklin, was first alphabetically. Sadly, many others have
added their names to that roll, and many more will yet. But here
it is, my homage to Lowell, just as he was commenting on Tate
before him.

The above picture is Sgt. Michael D. Acklin Jr., of Lousiville Kentucky.
May he rest in peace.

POSTSCRIPT: By a strange coincidence, I notice today (Nov. 16) that I posted this
poem on the two year anniversary of Sgt. Acklin's death. An odd occurence,
that serves in just one more way to put our lengthy, costly 'involvement' into perspective.

For the Coalition Dead

For Sgt. Acklin, and all who follow him


Relinquunt Omnia Servare Rem Publicam



Once I passed through his town,
A fish in an aquarium 
I did not even stop for gas
I remembered the song
“Eight more miles to Louisville,”
The radio did not oblige.

In the median, a statue
(Facing neither North nor South, for
Kentucky had not known that war)
It must have been Korea or Viet Nam 

(There have been so many)
I saw new buildings going up
I thought, “This town is growing”
A foolish thought as though 

I’d known its former size
The face of the weathered soldier
Dignified and fearless beneath the 
Pigeon’s white tribute to so long a peace.

I passed on to other climes, and forgot 
The soldier stuck in traffic
And then, in a list of names, 
I found a native

He, like the other soldier was stuck perpetually,
Straight as a ramrod, 
By accident of alphabet, 
He is first in line forever

His young face is smooth, serene, and does not blink.
He is some former slave’s great grandson, perhaps,
Dead for college money or lack of direction
He must have been a hell of a soldier, though;

Sergeant at 25; but we cannot know him now. 
He has chosen the risk, and paid his price.
He and hundreds of his brothers and sisters, 
Lettered neatly A to Z.

In a thousand small towns throughout the land,
Church bells ring for the slain and the returned. 
When others languish and die to lie beside him, 
Their names will be added, the solemn bell tolled.

I wonder if Sgt. Acklin would have wanted a monument. 
But no; for his is a war with no
Monuments, for his age cannot be motionless;
It must rush off too soon, to fight, to die

Though it does not know or even wonder why.
But Louisville slid past me; I want to hope 
That other men will remember that young, 
Unflinching face, that cannot die alone.


Timothy C. Phillips

March 5th 2004