Field of Daydreams

Her dad saw it as paying her respects;
for him & her mother’s mother,
the daughter went,
but never alone,
for she paid her respects every day
she continued to be someone
her mother would respect.
She didn’t need to see Mom’s name on a slab
to remember her,
for those who tended the graves of the fallen—
whether in combat
or long after they had honorably served—
honored the stones of the dead
that appeared to burst
from the gums of the earth
like teeth,
so polished & white,
the enamel worn off in places.
Some markers had crosses,
others, stars of David;
some had infinity symbols,
for belief in infinite beginnings,
others, atomic symbols,
for belief in a finite end;
innumerable other symbols
of faith or unfaith were unfamiliar to her,
though she took comfort in knowing
that in this hallowed ground,
these men & women,
despite who they served,
were equal because of what they served.

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