The Price

THE PRICE

There is a price to be paid
For doing what is right
That neither cheering crowds
Nor jeering critics can see
For the price is paid in solitude
Away from blind adoration
And screaming spitting ignorance
The Price is higher than they know
The Price is paid in lonely nights
When memory stalks your dreams
Turning them into a morass of horror
The Price is paid in waking fear
Dread of the flashing scenes recorded
That replay in your head unbidden
Yet, the honorable ones will pay
Putting the doing of the right
Above their own future life
This is what is not seen
By those not in the fires
This is the harsh reality
That once the peace comes
In the dark of night
The war drums beat on
And this sorrow
Is the Price

Michael D. Peele
9/16/2009