There is a beach in France where the ordinary proved extraordinary,
As common men fought fire-breathing dragons
On a far away shore.

There is a beach in France below thousands of white crosses
Blanketing rolling green fields,
Manicured and resolute.

From the beach in France, American volunteers now amend a wrong
Affixing Stars of David to the headstones
Of fallen Jewish warriors.

From the beach in France, a rabbi squints at a green hill
Encasing a Jewish cemetery long overgrown
With vines on broken railings.

At the American cemetery in France, visitors stare into the distance,
Blind to the blood and bones
Soaked in the Earth.

There is a beach in France where silent sentries shine tall
Over traumatized sand,
Who cast long sunset shadows on forests covering countless forgotten lives.