Ruiz 1

Marisa Ruiz

December 10, 2008

English 250

Poem

Fighting Spirit

Above us in the sky, the ‘iwa cries as it spirals downward to the sea.

The salty air is crispy cool like morning dew in early spring.

The peaks of the jagged Ko‘olau give way to the clouds.

Our American colors displayed up high waving in the breeze.

Atop the pole, the setting sun reflects a shimmer of gold.

Chin up, icy gaze and a hardened face still like ridged stone,

Marching in sync with each heavy stomp of your shiny steel toes

like a thundering sound of a distant storm.

No foolish pride; you are glorified.

A fearless gladiator-like figure with your head held so high,

your confidence seen in the flawless manner of your stride.

My little brother, my admired hero, so tall, stalwart, and handsome,

Face the unknown that lie ahead; lead and protect your men at any price

like a lion and his pride.

When morale seems dim like the sun setting west, keep strong and fight as a

revered Marine with all your best.

God bless your soul for I will be praying.

 Ruiz 2

In all your justice, behind your glory, you are a child in my eyes.

You are not the driven machine as the media glamorize.

You laugh, you cry, and you play.

You are my brother, my son, my father – who I much adore.

With so many of you leaving, your future is untold.

See the anxious eyes and hear the hush whispers in the crowd.

Silent weeps and stifled tears, a baby cries nearby as pulsating emotions rise.

Bittersweet thoughts of your return don’t help shed light to the question.

The sad question is unsaid - when will we embrace again?