I Wrote a Poem When My Father Passed Away.

Awaken Brave Soldier

Awaken Brave Soldier, for you have survived the long night.
You have borne the battle, you have fought the good fight.

The Commander has ordered as day breaks for the bugler to play,
It is a call to assemble He has given as the instruction of the day.

On a table shiny medals lay which are inscribed with your name.
Forever all will speak of how you have won your great fame.

Lay down your Sword of Truth, which long has served you well.
No longer is it needed, your battles are over at the gates of Hell.

In every campaign you have prevailed and protected what is at stake.
All those you love are safe, and others stand ready your watch to take.

The crowds are arriving, eager one last time to honor you today.
The Voice of all Authority in Heaven and Earth will formally tribute pay.

His word will thunder, "Well done thou good and faithful servant,"
As she whom you love most stands sweetly proud and reverent.

The faces of the young warriors you have been faithfully training,
Will focus on every word, trembling with their ears straining.

In their youth they long for just one more clear and defining instruction.
The Commander will new Sergeants assign to keep them from destruction.

The promotion will be read, and your new assignment made officially known.
The band will play and now the Capitol City will be your station and home.

There your watch and diligent attention to honor, love, and duty will carry on.
One by one, because of your stand, others will know their own great dawn.

Awaken brave Soldier, for you have survived the long night.
You have borne the battle, you have fought the good fight.

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Viking Warriors

  Dedicated to Lt. Brian Sorensen, the Royal Danish Navy, and his Band of Brothers 

Last Light

The gunfire is over, the rockets are silent, and once again rule has returned.

Innocents are safe, the fires are out, and now nothing else burns.

The wounded have been borne to the medical shelter for needed care.

Stories have been exchanged of exactly what happened there.

Then steals the pain that they have sustained great loss.

The battle was won, but oh at such a great cost.

Their brother will never again stand to their right

His weapons forever are laid down, and no more will he fight.

Hearts of the brave reel with unseen wounds that cause great pain.

As the sun sets that evening they remember where they found him lain.

His soul, his voice, his laughter, are no longer held in this world.

The flag at half mast signals toward heaven they’ve been hurled.

As the last of the rays which illuminate this their temporary home,

Sink in the distance they chill each silent Soldier to the bone.

Then a final diamond bright light touches the flag pole in farewell.

Signaling to each that forever the memory of his life will be held.

                                

          True Intent


The picture finds them crouched in the dirt of foreign soil,
Many a mile they have walked in the heat, and still on they have toiled.

An enemy dark and sinister, with evil intent they do hunt,
And then with deadly force they valiantly confront.



Fierce and foreboding in their equipment and gear,
Lethal to the threat of the enemy, they instill a chilling fear.

The civilians who watch have little reference to these Soldier’s intent,
Only having known the tyrant’s agenda to give them hint.



For wives and mothers, sisters and brothers, they have left home,
The mountains of this foreign country to roam,

In search of a threat which leaves the freedom of the whole world at stake.
Their duty and mission they will never forsake.



But now they provide protection for someone inside their human wall.
In the tracking of the enemy, they witness an innocent victim fall.

The wicked explosive device of the cruel terrorist’s hand,
Brings out the true heart and purpose of this warrior band.



Not only do they stand for those they left behind,
Their lives they risk yet again for the good of all mankind.

This stranger, of another nation, lies wounded and exposed,
Testimony is given by their huddled bodies that they are true heroes.



God keeps account of how each individual’s life is spent.
And at the end will reveal each person’s heart and true intent.

He has foreshadowed His words concerning these, the valiant,
When He said, “Well done thou good and faithful servant.”

Understand

“A sad soul can kill quicker than a germ.”  John Steinbeck

UNDERSTAND

After the attack, I joined with the brave who heard the call,

To protect our country from an enemy determined to cause it to fall.

This duty my mind and heart could completely understand.

Then with my brothers and sisters, I went to a foreign soil.

Together we followed every order, and endured each mission, as on we toiled.

The need for this work I still understand.

I came home, and visions returned of things no man should ever hold in sight.

Always now I must be vigilant and watch for a means of flight.

These things were very difficult for me to understand.

Sometimes my mind begins to falter, and I feel cold fear rise.

I am now someone my family and friends do not recognize.

Of this I have no ability to understand.

Finally, in shame and despair, I went to my commander.

Grasping for words to make this man hear, I could only stammer.

I longed for him to understand.

The expression and tone of the words I received in return,

Have dealt wounds and pain that cause my very soul to burn.

All efforts failed to cause him to understand.

Since this confession, I know, though long I stood strong,

To my beloved band of brothers I will never again belong.

I have slowly and painfully come to understand.

Tonight in the solitude of this lonely room, I’ll make my last stand.

Summon courage and my life lay down, by my own hand.

For no longer do I have the desire to understand.

by Debra LeCompte 

When anyone, especially a Veteran, is suffering from depression it is a given that the person may very well not have the ability to help themselves. It may be up to us, those who love them, to be there, and know what to do.  Know the signs and symptoms of Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome.  It might save the life of someone you encounter.

Bare and Sandaled Feet

Poetry continues to pour from my heart about the war as I observe its’ faces and hear its’ stories. I am really trying to discipline myself to make my own record, and share that record here. With that, this morning I offer a poem inspired by my husband telling me of observing Afghanistan men doing basic training after joining the Afghan National Army. I have made friends with some young people from Afghanistan, and I have been privileged to know of Afghanistan and her people through their eyes. We have discussed many issues, and I respect and admire these people, and have somewhat of an understanding of the personal sacrifice and risk it takes for them to raise up their country from the tyranny which has long haunted their land. I do not know that I could put myself and my family at the risk of death to help do the same were it my country. With the discontent toward the war on the part of many of the American people, it would trouble me that I might find myself left holding the bag, without the resources needed to complete the liberation of my country. That they do step out, bringing such risk to their lives, criticism from some of their own countrymen, and from people all around the world who doubt their true motivations, strikes me as uncommon moral courage.

So this morning I relate to you the thought process which my husband went through as he observed these strong and proud men at attention before their instructor, and some of them in sandals, and some with bare feet. You will also get the feel of what the heart is like of a dedicated, died in the wool, ever loyal, honor graduate of West Point and the Army War College, who is a colonel serving his last days of a 30 year career in Afghanistan and Iraq. You will note too how much I love and admire him as well as the people of Afghanistan.

Bare and Sandaled Feet

He strode purposely from his office, but stopped to stare at their bare and sandaled feet.

Afghan Soldiers in training, at attention in perfect military bearing, his gaze their eyes did not meet.

How could they run, how could they make a stand?

Were their feet not cut by the rocks, burned in the hot sand?

He continued his powerful stride, but now he detoured to command.

His questions were met with assurance that boots had been ordered, plenty to meet the demand.

He returned to his work where he labored far into the night,

Then made his way to his quarters, laid down, and turned out the light.

Soon thoughts of work faded, and were replaced by scenes of the blessings of his life.

He thought of friends, family, his beloved home, and his strong and adoring wife.

The beats of his heart slowed, and in his mind appeared The Long Gray Line in motion.

Familiar feelings rose, and as each night, again he vowed his “last true measure of devotion.”

As sleep stole over him a smile was on his face, at the memory of the strength of the bare and sandaled feet,

And his mind saw visions of a firestorm of courage and valor, which soon the enemy would meet.

Written by Debra LeCompte, November 6, 2010

Dedicated to the love of my life, Colonel Randy LeCompte, and his Infantryman’s heart,

West Point, and The Long Gray Line,

The Soldiers of The Afghan National Army, and

The Kabul Milli Boot Factory, Kabul, Afghanistan

The Comfort of His Kiss

Buzzy shared the falling of one of our nation's sons...as only he can, being the Warrior that he is... He always has images that sear forever the name and identity of a Soldier on my heart... He did this time as well. As a nation we mourn at this loss... As a woman, I can not even imagine this woman's grief... and then there is the soon to be born son...

 Comfort From His Kiss

I heard today of another Soldier fallen through a picture of his kiss.
Lovingly and gently he had placed it on the cheek of his young wife in their bliss.

I heard today of another Soldier fallen through a picture of his kiss.
My mind reeled knowing how that familiar jester will be missed.

I heard today of another Soldier fallen through a picture of his kiss.
The news said a young son was on the way, and anguish filled my heart at this.

I heard today of another Soldier fallen through a picture of his kiss.
I cannot fully know how she will feel as she falls in the abyss.

I heard today of another Soldier fallen through a picture of his kiss.
I hope she will remember the soft touch of his lips when reality her heart does twist.

I heard today of another Soldier fallen through a picture of his kiss.
I know that when the young son needs the comfort of his father, he will feel so amiss.

I heard today of another Soldier fallen through a picture of his kiss.
Having only to touch his mother's cheek, I know he will feel the warmth of his father's kiss.

I heard today of another Soldier fallen through a picture of his kiss.
Together mother and son will have to share sweet memories and reminisce.

We will remember, but that is not enough...  We must support the families of the fallen... until 

they too leave this world...As a nation we have such a grave responsibility, a scared duty to the survivors...

I Do Also Write Poetry Which Is Not About War

Falling

                                                                          

Isaiah 41:10  Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand. 

                                                                            Falling

                                                           Falling, falling, Iraq is falling,
                                          To a terror infinitely cold, depraved, and black.
                                    Such violence and anger  the world has always known.

                                                          Falling, falling, Iraq is falling,
                                    Her people are dying and their lives and society cracks
                              Her little children suffer in fear, and in their pain they groan.

                                                          Falling, falling, Iraq is falling,
                                        Relentlessly the evil minded in horrific ways attack.
                           The world listens but seems deaf to the intensity of victim's moans.

                                                        Falling, falling Iraq is falling,
                                         For honor, law, and  democracy it had no knack.
                             Though it was something her people desperately wanted to own.
.
                                                          Falling, falling Iraq is falling,
                              America made efforts but in this we offer little to take up the slack.
                                   Not much it seems there is that can be done by just a drone.

                                                          Falling, falling, Iraq is falling,
                                  Our own governments advice cannot influence or make a pack.
                                         I wonder, are there things for which we should atone?

                                                         Falling, falling Iraq is falling,
                               Mankind's best efforts and resources once again we find to lack.
                                Many who do not know Him wonder is God still on His throne.

                                                         Falling, falling Iraq is falling,
                                  When will we realize God only can bring her back on track.
                       All will someday know, submission to His love will mend and heal alone.

                                                         Falling, falling, Iraq is falling,
                                        Pray the Father that His hand He will not hold back.
                               Grieve not that many of His own He is calling to their true home.

                                                        Falling, falling, Iraq is falling,
                           God's plan is at work, and he who this pain and suffering does wrack, 
                                    Will soon be defeated and never again the world roam.

                                                        Falling, falling, Iraq is falling,
                         We continually try to construct a safe place, but we realize only a shack.
                  Creation will learn God's truth is the only place offering a true protecting dome.

oems, short poems,
                                        All images and this poem are copyrighted to Debra LeCompte, 
                                                                all usual protections and permissions apply.

A Poem Dedicated to Denmark's Finest Sons

Sometimes images make a tremendous impression on me, whether they are painted or some other form of art from the imagination of someone's mind, or photographs of actual events.  I love good photography, it is the capturing of time.   

 Dedicated to Lt. Brian Sorensen, the Royal Danish Navy, and his Band of Brothers 

Last Light

The gunfire is over, the rockets are silent, and once again rule has returned.

Innocents are safe, the fires are out, and now nothing else burns.

The wounded have been borne to the medical shelter for needed care.

Stories have been exchanged of exactly what happened there.

Then steals the pain that they have sustained great loss.

The battle was won, but oh at such a great cost.

Their brother will never again stand to their right

His weapons forever are laid down, and no more will he fight.

Hearts of the brave reel with unseen wounds that cause great pain.

As the sun sets that evening they remember where they found him lain.

His soul, his voice, his laughter, are no longer held in this world.

The flag at half mast signals toward heaven they’ve been hurled.

As the last of the rays which illuminate this their temporary home,

Sink in the distance they chill each silent Soldier to the bone.

Then a final diamond bright light touches the flag pole in farewell.

                            Signaling to each that forever the memory of his life will be held.

Once in a Blue Moon

Did You See That Blue Moon Tonight?

      OOOOOhhhh, AAAAAhhhh, that Blue Moon thing....

Once in a Blue Moon

The Poem I Wrote Which Means the Most to Me

It is not easy to be the wife of a Soldier, especially during war.  I remember what a difficult place in life I found myself when I first wrote this poem.  I thought I had made it.  I thought Randy was coming home to stay.  He was not, he had been gone for two years to Afghanistan and Iraq. When he returned I knew he was called to go back with the State Department.  I wrestled with the Lord on that one, but in the end, I knew he was called. I had known from the first conversation we ever had he was called to be a Soldier, a leader, the kind which is becoming more rare all the time.  He is a soft spoken man, and was never one of those loud, gregarious, and overbearing type of leaders.  When one is quietly confident, it usually relates to accomplishments already made, humility which is sincere, and it is a natural by-product of true honor.

He has been gone another three years, and the opportunity for me to join him in Germany is the only thing that has kept me going for a while now.  I cannot wait.

Sometimes  it is difficult to get a gift for a Soldier, I always think very hard about what to get mine.  For Christmas I got him a little canoe.  When he was a kid he would  go fishing with his dad in a little row boat, his dad has been gone many years now, but he still talks about fishing in that boat with his dad.  Now it is time for Valentine's and I decided that carefully  chosen words of admiration and love were fitting,  I wasn't going to share them with anyone but him, but when he read them, he felt they might speak to others as well... and so here for every Soldier, and everyone who loves a Soldier, words from my heart.  To my beloved, Happy Valentine's Day!

If

If there stood before me 1000 men,

Each of whose lives I had observed again and again.

If I had watched them closely at command,

Of Soldiers, equipment, and resources try to meet war’s great demands.

If I knew their lives, credentials, and previous work,

How they handled things, and I were privy to each little quirk.

If the fate of personal liberty, the freedom of us all,

Hung in the balance, and without the right leadership would forever fall.

If there would be before us, only one chance,

To meet in battle some terrible foe, and the art of war to dance.

If by the wisdom and expertise of only one man,

The defenses of our country would fail or stand.

If you, my love, stood among those men in their rows,

The one whom no other I have ever loved so.

If somehow it were my duty the right decision to deliver,

My mind could easily make the choice, but my heart would quiver.

If I knew the man I chose would never come home,

Could I give what it cost, the most valuable thing I own?

If in my decision, would the moral courage by which I have watched you live,

Empower me to do the right thing, and the sacrifice to give.

If as I considered all that lay in the balance, to me you would clearly state,

What your own choice would be and how you would face your fate.

If, as I know would happen, I knew who stood above the rest.

Could I, in selfishness, select the one who was second best?

If there stood before me 1000 men,

This I pray before God, that I never will know how it ends.

 

I Saw the Sad Eyes

 

  

I Saw the Sad Eyes 

I saw the sad eyes of women who had been betrayed,
By those who from honor, never should have strayed.

They could not have known what would come to them,

 Integrity was pledged and they believed without a whim.

In a dark hour their faith and loyalty was shattered. 
Their lives, without regard, left broken and tattered.

 

Time seemed strangled and unable their injuries to mend.
To go on with life seemed to have nowhere to begin.

Then in chorus the sad eyes looked around in panic and pain,
In a moment they knew other eyes revealed the same stain.

                                                                    
 Hearts united and power and change came with more ease,      
 The weakest were lifted first by the women from their knees.

Words and tears were shared and brought balm to their soul wounds.
Slowly in unity they overcame, and the living of lives resumed.

 I saw the sad eyes of women who had been betrayed. 

By those who from honor, never should have strayed.

     

The photos of eyes of women posted as a part of this poem are cropped from pictures taken at the Service Women's Action Network conference in April of 2013. I was privileged to be asked to attend this conference. These women are all survivors of Military Sexual Trauma. There is one exception, the eyes portrayed in black and white at the top of the post, are those of a non-survivor, her father attended the conference, as did several parents of Victims.  Her name was Carrie, she was a Marine, and she took her own life after being unable to cope with the beating and rape she sustained while in service, perpetrated by those serving along side of her.  Her father, a retired Marine works tirelessly to bring justice for her. We gathered to celebrate survival, offer support to one another, to work for change, and to mourn for and remember those who did not survive.  One of our goals was the passage of the Ruth Moore Act, which provides for equal consideration for those Service Members who suffer PTSD due to MST, and provision for the same benefits and services as provided those who suffer PTSD due to combat.  On June 04, 2013, it became law.

Another of our goals was to change how cases of Military Sexual Trauma are investigated and handled, and December of 2013 saw progress in that area as well.  We owe so much to those who serve, our prayers, our love, and our support.  That support should always include demanding that at all times the military operates from a place of sacred duty and honor, and that every Service Member be valued, and promises from our government kept.