The thought of losing a child cripples me [emotionally]. Although I have thankfully not lost a child to war my mama heart hurts so deeply for those who have that is how this poem was born so many years ago.

That is why I share it here today.

But let me not forget – let none of us forget.

Memorial Day is more than a long weekend, a parade, or a flag waving in the warm breeze.
For many families, it is a chair left empty. A voice that no longer answers. A folded flag resting where a son, daughter, husband, wife, father, or mother once stood.

Today, we remember those who took an oath beneath a flag of pride and came home draped beneath it.

This poem was written years ago, but like grief itself, its meaning never ages. It is for the mothers who still whisper lullabies into silence, for the families who carry pride and heartbreak in the same breath — the same trembling hands. And for every fallen service member who gave all they had —whose absence still echoes through the lives they left behind.

Little Man
By Janna Hill

IT’S TIME TO GO TO bed little man
Cover up your head little man
I’ll see you when the sun breaks in the morn
Say your prayers and close your eyes
I’ve locked the monsters all outside
She’d sang those words to him since he was born

He grew to be a brave young lad
And followed after his ole dad
Beneath a flag of pride his oath was sworn
They brought him home in silk lined wood
And all around him soldiers stood
While Butterfield’s Lullaby played upon the horn

It’s time to go ahead little man
I know that you weren’t scared little man
My heart breaks I can’t see you and I mourn
I’ve said my prayers for your closed eyes
I’ve tucked my feelings deep inside
She sang into a folded flag of thorns.