My Bracelet (repost)

Today I wear a bracelet
Which is eighteen years old
I wear it this day every year
For living moments that it holds

It was made for us in gratitude
For being there and holding up
The families of those we lost too soon
That horrid day in Washington

Crafted by hand in all three colors
They once were bright without a mark
Each year the colors fade a bit
And the beads become more scarred

At first I made an effort
To keep it quite pristine
But after many years I realize
Value is not in keeping clean

The dirt and scratches simply show
Eighteen years of life we’ve lived
We’re not defined by cracks and aging
But by what of ourselves we give

Dear bracelet, you’ll be on my wrist
On this day every year
Until one of us lets go that thread
Life well worn out for those not here

-me

 

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I repost this every year on this day, it’s not the best poem technically…but that doesn’t really matter today.

A picture of the bracelet made, and given to me, by a volunteer at the Pentagon days after September 11, 2001 to thank those of us who escorted families to view the site where their loved ones died that horrific day. I am proud to have stood there with them, to have wept with them, to have heard stories about their loved ones, to have been present, available. It is one of my saddest, but proudest, days in the military.

~ by April on September 11, 2019.

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