At
the whiles I sit and think
Of
times there were before,
Listening
for the running feet
And
sounds of coming war.
I
have trod the steps of those
Who
�mid the battle's spoil
In
defiant ruins stood,
Their
guns in full recoil.
I
have touched these symbols,
The
mighty arms they bore
And
felt in them the power
Of
a country now at war.
Soldiers
ran to man their posts
And
bravely joined the fight;
Fear
and panic, hope and grief,
With
help nowhere in sight.
Still
they stood and took the blow
That
freedom might remain.
Holding
back the enemy,
At
least to slow his gain.
Though
valiant to the end they stood
At
last the order came,
With
shoulders stooped, exhausted men
Surrendered,
though still game.
They
had withstood the onslaught,
Their
sacrifice unknown.
Years
of horrors lay ahead,
Prisoners,
forgotten and alone.
Marched
to fetid stinking camps,
Suffering
beatings and starvation.
This
the enemy's handiwork:
Cruelty,
humiliation.
For
what each endured, eyes tear and blink,
Remembering
all they've given.
These
monuments still stand today,
Reminding
of lives riven.
Many
are no longer with us;
Each
year they fewer grow.
But
through [the] work of those who care
Ensuring
still the world will know.
|