I Cannot

Initially, the sound is ever so soft.

I can barely hear the muted drum beats.

They almost seem comforting, in their disguise.

As hours, minutes, days go by, they become more insistent, and yes,

Galvanizing,

Without warning, I, too, begin to walk in cadence with those who march and shout.

Momentarily the graves I once viewed tearfully at Normandy are wiped from memory.

As any memory of the heroes who perished or returned crippled from Vietnam fades away.

The anguish of forgotten gold stars hanging on widows in WWII is quickly abolished with the insistent music of persistent drum beats

Without warning. there is a brief pause in the repetitious sound, but only for a fragmented moment, Then I do remember, and yes, I dare to wonder

About War and its origins and

Who and where were those who insisted that it was time for us to join the fray?

I dare to ask who and where are those now beating the drums saying, “Go, go, go,” until it becomes ingrained in our subconscious?

And telling me yes, we must send our children, our treasure, our joy to fight another fight,

And even though the music is becoming louder, I cannot help but ask “Why?”