Ribbons On Wreaths

The green branches and
Colorful flowers flutter
Softly in the wind.
The ribbons blow softly and overlap.

It's here where they weep.
It's here where they don't know.
It's here where they don't forget.

It's here where we remember.
It's here where we see them and know.
It's here where we feel lucky; blessed.

We go there to see them.
We go there to be silent.

Respect is thick in the air.
Imagine what it feels like:
Breathing respect in
And exhaling even more out.

Some don't realize what they feel.
Do they feel the sadness?
Do they feel the pain?

Can they see the collapsed mothers?
Can they see the broken families?
Can they see the folded flag being handed from
Hand to hand?

We go because we're grateful.
We go because we feel unworthy of living.
We go to remember

and wish our thanks into the air
So someone else can breathe it in.
And exhale it back out.

The trails of thanks follow
The blankets of respect.

And we breathe both in.
And then let more out.