Always the Remembrances

Hear the flaxen grasses that wave

Across war fields to unknown graves.

They ripple of palpable malcontent

Of noise and fire and raging tempests

Upon the heads of nubile men

Afraid of death from enemy fire.

To home the dead’s names come from years of search

And to stone, their names and rank are hard rendered

Now they will be remembered,

By grieving families,

And by freedom; for the choices which freedom gives.

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