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HONORABLE MENTION, by                    
First Line: Blind, mutilated, yet still animate
Last Line: By daily anguish for their living-dead?


Blind, mutilated, yet still animate,
This man-child, led by her whose heart, a cask
For grief, her trembling smiles so thinly mask.
Two livid, empty sockets blaze his hate;
Two stumps that once were hands, gesticulate
In frenzy of appeal. I rise to ask
Why God appointed for this bitter task
The one who bore her son for such a fate?

Our Gold-Star mothers go abroad to weep
A few short hours, above the doubtful dust
Of sons remembering no more war's lust,
But sensing only the unbounded sweep
Of time and space. But what of mothers bled
By daily anguish for their living-dead?





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