Silent Hero
(For my brother, who answered a call not his own)
He did not seek the soldier’s path,
Nor dream of distant war.
The summons came, abrupt and cold,
With grief still at our door.
Our father gone, our hearts still sore,
Another loss we feared—
Yet off he went, obedient,
Though troubled, yet austere.
No hatred burned within his chest,
No vengeance drove his hand.
He bore a gun for others’ cause,
To shell a foreign land.
He did not question orders then—
He dared not break the line.
He bore the weight of duty’s yoke,
And never called it mine.
The medals came, a silent gleam,
Then vanished from the day.
He tucked them deep inside a drawer
And let them fade away.
No tales he told, no boast, no song—
Just peace, his only plea.
He came back whole, or close enough,
And sought to simply be.
So here I speak the words he won’t,
In quiet reverence stand:
A brother, son, a faithful man
Who served at fate’s command.