Come

One thousand plus lay sleeping

at the bottom of the sea:

60 long years they have slumbered

as the rest of us live free.

-

'Twas a peaceful Sunday morning,

December Seventh, Nineteen Forty One

when hell descended on them

from the Land of the Rising Sun.

-

They served aboard the Arizona,

lined up on Battleship Row,

when bombs, torpedoes, and machine gun fire

sent the men and the ship below.

-

And today their bodies lay sleeping

still on the ship where they died:

Oil still seeps to the surface

like tears, as the sea for each of them cried.

-

A few, more fortunate, escaped the fate

of their friends entombed 'neath the sea.

But, would ne'er forget, and finally request

that their ashes be returned to the sea.

-

Urn after urn has been enterred

through the mouth of gun turret four,

taking man after man back to the ship

to rest and wander no more.

-

The bugle will awaken these men one day

from their never-ending sleep.

"Well done My sons," the Father will say, "Come -

it's time to leave your home in the deep."