TO A CELEBRATED HERO FROM AN UNKNOWN WOMAN


(i)

I see you, a fresh-faced boy
crowding into a tiny skiff at the dead of night,
juggling heavy kit and rifle to the jeers of mates:
“Off me lap, Jack – you ain’t me girlfriend!”

Did you know then the gratitude of a nation
was what hung in the air, lacing the stench
of sweat-soaked innocence with ideals
of foolhardy bravado and just cause?

That MY future comfort and ease
would be bought at the price of the fear
falling in curtains down your pack-bruised back,
the blood of comrades clotting beneath your
soul-scraping fingernails and tears of despair
washing your boots free of ignominy and madness?


(ii)

Sir, you do not know me, distanced in time and place
from the scenes of your victory and valour,
but I know you; I know you in the heart of your son
whose life is testimony to the hopes and visions
your brothers died to nurture and preserve.

His actions in a world still ill-at-ease with goodness
render your triumph complete; in him
is your standard a banner raised high
and those whom it shelters bask in your heritage.


(iii)

Your medals may gleam with a righteous pride;
your belt may still be buckled with nobility and courage.

But give me your boots, muddied and torn
for they have carried the burden of toil
and brought home the glory of a nation.

Leading Seaman John Turner, I am forever in your debt.
With untold thankfulness, I salute you.