Soldier's Daughter

If you're not a soldier's daughter,
You don't know heartache.
Memories of hugs filled with warmth and tender love,
Replaced by empty loneliness
Where good news gets lost in a black abyss,
Like a cold and frigid sea.
And nightmares are comforted by silence,
The squeeze of a teddy bear, old and rugged,
Tears fall upon the pillow,
A black abyss full of empty loneliness surrounds you.
No, you don't know heartache,
If you're not a soldier's daughter.

If you're not a soldier's daughter,
You don't know courage.
Stronger than a lion watching his domain,
Waking each day, struggling to pull out of the safety cave of covers.
Living strong, and having to be the base of the family tree,
The weight of worried troubles crushing you,
Crushing you as a sturdy compactor crushes metal,
Facing the eyes of society,
Hearing their harsh words putting down your father and his work,
Their ignorance and scorn blanketing you like a blustery winter snow,
Yet pulling yourself from your safe haven every day, just the same.
No, you don't know courage,
If you're not a soldier's daughter.

If you're not a soldier's daughter,
You don't know compassion.
Staring into the eyes of a young angel,
Her big mahogany windows opening to her soul,
They stare back, searching your face for answers,
As your hand gracefully moves through her silken hair.
"Is Daddy coming home soon?" she asks quietly as you tuck her in.
Wrapping the sheets around her, fortifying her sanctuary for good sleep,
"I don't know," is the only reply you can give,
as you seal the promise of eternal protection and love with a kiss,
upon her porcelain crown.
No, you don't know compassion,
If you're not a soldier's daughter.

If you're not a soldier's daughter,
you don't know pride.
Old Glory flowing grandly and free in American air,
The faint song of our country playing.
Tears swell up in your eyes,
As a B-1 Bomber flies by.
Thinking of how he's risking his life,
So that you can stand tall, free and proud,
In a country where dreams come true,
While people criticize the fight he's fighting,
Not caring that he's fighting for them.
He's not a stranger,
They may not have met him,
But they know him.
They reap what he sows as they walk free and tall,
In this country where dreams come true,
While he is there, sweat, blood and sand have become one with his body.
No, you don't know pride,
If you're not a soldier's daughter.

If you're not a soldier's daughter,
You don't know fear.
Stumbling, but staying strong to not disappoint,
Running yourself weak, fighting life's endless battles,
Just to hear him say in a five-minute phone call,
"That's my girl."
Waking up slowly, life and time spinning around you,
Yet your reality sits still,
And won't return to normalcy until he returns home again.
Walking slowly to the window,
The glass reflecting glorious sunlight upon an innocent face,
Knowing that at any moment that car can pull up,
Or the phone could ring,
And you find out that he's truly gone,
And you have to tell the angel,
With the mahogany eyes,
"My dear little sister, Daddy's not coming home."
No, you don't know fear,
If you're not a soldier's daughter.

Hayley Brooks