Homework November - Graves of the Fallen
Posted: Wed Nov 11, 2020 1:05 pm
Well, this is definitely old! The original version was written during a Contiki Tour to Europe in 1980 when I was just twenty years old. We went to the graveyard at Monte Cassino, Italy, so 'The Graves of Monte Cassino' was the original title of the poem until I changed it to encompass all.
It has been tweaked several times over the years, and in one of its versions was awarded a VHC back in 2003....I have sometimes looked at it for possible further changes, but I just continue to be fond of its simple message, because it's a true story and still clearly evokes for me the strong feeling I experienced when I stood there looking at that tiny white cross...an unforgettable emotion that, after all, is what Remembrance Day is all about.
Graves of the Fallen
I wandered through the graveyard of the men we’d lost to war,
reflecting on the tragic waste and what had gone before.
The chilling touch of death crept leaden, sighing through the air;
surrounding me for miles around were tombstones, everywhere.
I strolled unhurried, reading names of those I’d never met—
perceived the wretched hopelessness of our eternal debt.
For all these men had families or sweethearts, children too,
yet bravely marched to war to fight for everything they knew,
protect us from a tyranny that we could not conceive,
maintain the precious freedom in which all of us believe.
The rain began to gently fall as I meandered there—
with not another soul around, still silence filled the air.
Yet in my mind their voices seemed to fill my listening ears—
their suffering and horror, friendly banter, anguished tears.
Then as I neared the exit gate, the impact of their loss
subdued and overwhelmed me when I found that single cross.
A tiny, unassuming thing—no name carved on its face,
yet poignantly it seemed to me to dominate that place.
A white plaque stood beside it. I could not see what it said,
so knelt to gain a closer look, discover who lay dead.
An unknown soldier rested in the ground beneath my feet,
and none would ever know whose life had ended incomplete.
A message was inscribed upon the stone where this man slept—
a plea from all those troops it seemed—I shivered, read and wept…
‘In future years when coming here, remember us this way—
For each of your tomorrows, we have given our today.’
I cried for him, this nameless friend who’d truly given all,
while deep inside I grieved for those who’d answered fate’s grim call.
I prayed for every soul who’d paid this ultimate high price,
“God bless and keep them always in their hard-earned paradise;
such countless numbers brave and true—we can’t know all their names—
their memory must live and burn with everlasting flames.”
© Catherine Lee, circa 1980
It has been tweaked several times over the years, and in one of its versions was awarded a VHC back in 2003....I have sometimes looked at it for possible further changes, but I just continue to be fond of its simple message, because it's a true story and still clearly evokes for me the strong feeling I experienced when I stood there looking at that tiny white cross...an unforgettable emotion that, after all, is what Remembrance Day is all about.
Graves of the Fallen
I wandered through the graveyard of the men we’d lost to war,
reflecting on the tragic waste and what had gone before.
The chilling touch of death crept leaden, sighing through the air;
surrounding me for miles around were tombstones, everywhere.
I strolled unhurried, reading names of those I’d never met—
perceived the wretched hopelessness of our eternal debt.
For all these men had families or sweethearts, children too,
yet bravely marched to war to fight for everything they knew,
protect us from a tyranny that we could not conceive,
maintain the precious freedom in which all of us believe.
The rain began to gently fall as I meandered there—
with not another soul around, still silence filled the air.
Yet in my mind their voices seemed to fill my listening ears—
their suffering and horror, friendly banter, anguished tears.
Then as I neared the exit gate, the impact of their loss
subdued and overwhelmed me when I found that single cross.
A tiny, unassuming thing—no name carved on its face,
yet poignantly it seemed to me to dominate that place.
A white plaque stood beside it. I could not see what it said,
so knelt to gain a closer look, discover who lay dead.
An unknown soldier rested in the ground beneath my feet,
and none would ever know whose life had ended incomplete.
A message was inscribed upon the stone where this man slept—
a plea from all those troops it seemed—I shivered, read and wept…
‘In future years when coming here, remember us this way—
For each of your tomorrows, we have given our today.’
I cried for him, this nameless friend who’d truly given all,
while deep inside I grieved for those who’d answered fate’s grim call.
I prayed for every soul who’d paid this ultimate high price,
“God bless and keep them always in their hard-earned paradise;
such countless numbers brave and true—we can’t know all their names—
their memory must live and burn with everlasting flames.”
© Catherine Lee, circa 1980