composite, composite material, ceramic matrix composites, inventor

In Memory of
Lucas Starcevich


I did not raise my son to die in some foreign field,
at some invisible hand, around some strange tongues in a desert land.
How do you define patriotism in a war with lessening support?
But has it not always been so?

Where is the sacrifice for those who die storming the castle gate?
Their glory is clean and bright, not the face-down-in-the-dirt,
the greater sacrifice of dying from some twist of fate.
But a parent's heart aches just the same, and a void created is a void remained.

How does a father grieve for a son lost to his cause, his belief?
How does a mother grieve for the son who was, but breathes no more?
Has in not always been so?

Does not the enemy rejoice at our own death, Yet we do not do the same?
But we claim a different God, a different faith, a different land, a different name.
Some things never change, yet we know this never makes it right.

So what then is the fallen's desire? He did not choose to die, but die he did,
and we remain still with life to ask again do our beliefs cause such strife?

We wrestle with the struggle, and struggle with the truth, or the lie:
Did not we who hold so dear our way of life,
not decide it's true and best to have a cause worth life,
and that the long old saying of our patriot fathers is true and right,
that the tree of liberty is thus watered with the blood from life.

We pray that God will grass over this hero's grave,
and that the brokenness of our hearts might someday heal,
and though life itself will never be the same,
that the rolling years will ease the pain without loosing the memory
without losing the honor of the fallen's name.

We salute you, and your sacrifice, and all such who defend with might.
We claim that this nation neither wrong nor right -
is worth defending, and is still being bought with life.

by Mark Rauschert, 30 April 2007


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