When I Die

When I die let it be a noble death.

Not one of comfort for the passing of many years,

filled with meaningless pleasantries.

But let me die with protest in my heart

and a spirit embedded in unrest,

for what will be left undone

when I am but a memory.

When I die let it be remembered,

that I cared not for myself

but for my people.

Those who wear my color darkness

beneath the swelling ground

as well as those who still feel it’s cold prickling,

beneath their feet.

When I die let it be known

that I lived free from disillusionment,

understanding that I was brought here

in the midst of a war

and willingly fought all the battles,

decorated by my people as a hero and sung.