Flags high

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Flags high

The shelves of a barrier separate the column,
Life or death now or then, but is solemn,
A battlefield known of dread and blood,
The devotion, these men lead, would those triggers heed?
Chanting by the fire, the other night, we rejoiced,
An unsightly pile of flesh and bones, is all that remained.

Brothers at arms, rest with valour in their palms,
Holding a look so stern, a soaring eagle shall humble,
I salute, the fallen heroes, for their repute,
A sense of sacrifice, that no deed can suffice,
A thought poises a silence, amongst bereaving grave noises,
As a subtle peace I gaze, in their dead war sunken faces.

Lost soldiers and lost brothers, but the sun sets,
A family that awaits us, below another twilight,
We lie dreaming, somewhere beneath the same sky,
Photographs and old memories, to live by.
The morning light awakens, the call for duty,
With immense pride, my nation, I shoulder again,
I march, alongside comrades, crooning the same vision,
Shall I return home, or shall I die,
Shall I be victorious, or be a relic,
If I’m gone,
Mother! tell them, I held your flag high,
The moment I fell.

– Shane

Video adaptation of the poem – https://youtu.be/cu2VI9KFEt0

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