This earth has contained me,
Fed me, clothed me, and chained me.
To this earth I'm no longer bound.
Upon the wind of the skies I am new found.
My soul dances on an evening breeze,
I whisper through the sycamore trees.
I'll fly on the wings of birds and
Sing a song I've never heard.
I'll rest upon mountain peaks,
Floating through hills of clover and leaves,
Plowing among plains of corn and grains,
Gliding in dark, green forests of rain.
To the waves I follow ashore,
To city lights I've explored.
Calmly floating on the breeze
I watched the new morning with ease.
My soul is freedom flying
For I have left but not departed.
I watch this earth that chained me.
This earth that does not contain me.
By Kendra Girod
(This poem expresses better than any other I've seen, how I'd like to remember all those who gave their lives in Vietnam. Although they are no longer with us in body, their spirits are all around us, and they are 'free' to go where we cannot. - John Casey)