What Counts In The End

What Counts In The End

By Milton E. McKinney ©

aka Breaktrack.

I was standing in a flag line the other day
With Old Glory held tight in my hand
Standing silent, alone with my thoughts
Knowing this wasn’t what had been planned.

I heard some others, kind of new to it all
Expressing just what they thought
Making comments about this, and insults about that
And I knew what they hadn’t been taught.

I kept my piece, for as long as I could
Just trying to keep the tears at bay,
Thinking about the young soldier we’d lost,
But these guys just had to have their say.

“Look at what that one guy looks like”
One man said to his friend,
“You’d think they’d at least try to dress up,
When honoring this troop at his end.”

“Yeah,” said the other, “Did you see what he rides?”
“A beat up old Harley it seems.”
“Why don’t they just keep these old bikers away?
“Black leather just looks so extreme!”

“And that 1 percenter in the line further down
Looking like he slept on the ground.”
"I don’t know why we are forced to stand here
With outlaws like that all around.”

I stood there and counted to ten in my mind,
And decided I just couldn’t wait.
If I didn’t tell them just exactly my thoughts,
My shoulders couldn’t handle the weight.

I handed my flag to the next guy in line,
And walked down to my fine feathered friends.
And I stood there a moment, to settle my mind,
And to take in their yuppie fashion trends.

Twice I opened my mouth and started to speak,
But stopped again and again.
Then I made up my mind what I wanted to say,
And then said something along this vein.

“It’s not about who your daddy was,
Or that mom knew how to make a buck.”
“It’s not about whether or not you can read,
Or drive a big car or a truck.”

“It’s not about who’s on the inside.”
“It’s not about who’s in charge.”
“It’s not about whether you’re tall or you’re short,
Or whether your bankroll is large.”

“It’s not about what you’re wearing,”
“It isn’t about what you ride.”
“It’s about all the honor and respect,
We show standing side by side.”

“If you can’t accept that everyone here
Has a right to honor these dead,”
“Your brain has been fooled to be politically correct,
And your heart might as well look like lead.”

“That ‘Old Biker” you mentioned in your whiney little voice
Was a veteran of many long years.”
“He’s been there and done that and carried the load,
He’s much more than what he appears.”

“And that bike that he rides is again something else,
That you young pups should both know about.”
“Cause he built it himself from a pile of old parts
And your ability to do the same I would doubt.”

“He comes to these missions in spite of his pain,
And his legs shake whenever he stands.”
“And though his back aches while he’s holding that flag
It’s a sacrifice he understands.”

“And that 1 percenter traveled one thousand miles,”
To be in this line here today.”
“He rode till he couldn’t, then slept by his bike
"So he’d be here on time just to pray.”

“Oh and just so you know, he’s a Viet Nam vet,
And he didn’t get welcomed home.”
“Yet he’s making sure that doesn’t happen again,
While you polish your plasticized chrome.”

“So if you’re just here to hang out for a while,
Or because you just think that it’s cool. “
“Because all your friends thought you needed to come
Or a great way to get out of school.”

“Then you need to spend a little of your time
Hanging out with that man over there”
“He’s the one you should look up to and wonder about
Cause he’s got so much knowledge to share.”

“And that “Outlaw” you saw still deserves your respect,
Though little of that have you shown.”
And I thought to myself, why bother this way
They are boys who will never be grown.

I turned on my heel and stepped back in line,
And took back my flag from my friend.
We are here to honor this soldier today,
After all, that’s what counts in the end.

So I may not have made any difference today,
I may have been wasting my time.
But maybe, just maybe I can hope they’ll think twice,
And if so, then it’s worth this long rhyme.