Beautiful, touching ceremony.
News coverage at this link:
Katelyn Reid, a high school student, read her poem during the services:
REMEMBRANCE AT NORMANDY
by Katelyn Reid
I close my eyes.
Footsteps.
All around, I hear footsteps.
Loud, heavy, uncaring,
While those below
Will never walk again.
I open my eyes.
Life.
All around, I see life.
Animals, plants, people,
Moving,
While those below
Lie still forever more.
It is unfair.
Birds twitter and sing,
Leaves rustle,
People talk,
But those below
Are forced into silence.
Children on school fieldtrips
Trudge by
Stomachs grumbling,
Caring only about lunch.
Adults stroll by
Talking loudly,
Eyes dry,
Here only out of a sense of obligation.
I step hesitantly onto the grass
And move through the
Rows and rows of crosses.
I take a good look around
And decide
It is too happy.
Cheerful white clouds
Roll through the merry blue sky.
Leafy, bright green bushes
Gently dance on the breeze.
A white picket fence
Lines the back of the cemetery.
People chat
As they move about.
I walk forward,
Grumpy at their indifference,
But soon forget them.
I stare blankly at the white crosses
As I pass,
Reading the faceless names
That mean nothing to me
But knowing they meant the world
To someone else.
I do not cry.
I have nothing to cry about.
I did not know them.
And then I reach
What I thought was the end
Of the cemetery.
That's no picket fence.
Stunned, I gaze out
At the rows of white crosses before me.
I turn and look back,
Then forward again.
I realize with surprise that
Suddenly I am engulfed in
An endless sea of white marble,
A thousand grave markers
For a thousand brave heroes—
For a mere forty percent
Of the soldiers who died here,
The ones who were not sent back home.
And then
The national anthem plays.
As I raise my hand
To my heart,
I suddenly see them
All around me,
Standing with me,
Straight, erect, at attention,
Just like the crosses that represent them.
Rows and rows of soldiers,
Who although they lie below,
Will stand forever
As courageous and loyal American heroes,
Pledged to the protection of
The Land of the Free.
I am overcome with a gratitude
That cannot be spoken
Lest some of it be lost in translation
From heart to words.
And a tear comes to my eye.
Copyright 2014
