The Last Full Measure of Devotion

Like the Israelites noticing the armies of Pharaoh,
I see a cloud of dust rise in the west.
I turn to the priests to have my sight improved,
And perhaps they will choose me to be blessed.

However, by my plight, they seem unmoved.
For they know, I may be on the side of the angels,
But don’t for a second think I am one.

I have killed my brethren,
And yet still,
I am trying to climb closer to the heavens,
And with outstretched fingers attempting to touch the face of God.

As the land of the free remains in chains,
And the home of the brave run’s red with blood.