The Men of Normandy

The Men of Normandy

Where are the Men of Normandy, those bravest of the brave?
Where, those alive and with us? Where, those in sandy grave?

I looked for the Men of Normandy, been searching all my life.
I’ve scanned in books and movie plots, and in today’s headlines.

We look to them to teach us, we need their strength and valor.
Tip the scales back against our weakness and our pallor.

We need those Men of Normandy who gave it all that day,
Bravely facing certain death yet going anyway.

We love the Men of Normandy though only boys back then,
We need their courage and fortitude to change our sons to Men.

We owe the Men of Normandy but nothing can repay
What can give them back their life and fade the memories away?

Where are the Men of Normandy, those bravest of the brave?
Where, those alive and with us? Where, those in sandy grave?



I found the Men of Normandy, they’d been there all along,
Quietly uncomplaining, bronzed, sooty, strong.

They were on the stairs in New York City, and the caves of Kandahar,
On the streets of Fallujah and in cockpits in the air.

From emptied palaces in Baghdad, and the outskirts of Kabul,
Resurrected and fighting for the end of tyranny’s rule.

Salute the Men of Normandy with silent voice and hat in hand,
Honor them! Revere them! that strong and frail band.

-Eric Clayton, June 6, 2004

920 w Wilson

Chicago, IL 60640