Shrouded fields on a memorable day by Rick Richardson

Did you see them take the green fields one by one
– Now line by line on hills in echelon?
Still; holding ground held holy by their sons.
Did you hear them marching to the smoke and drum?
Where bugler called the day to final rest,
Now silence grows like lichen on the stones.
For those who gave their all at our behest,
Our memories alone will not atone.

Do you see the fires burning at a distance,
– And more hallowed ground broken day by day?
Each new stone laid a fading reminiscence;
Each new boquet soon fading into gray.
What better way to honor sacrifice
Than to pause and speak their names aloud
Until the gods of war are pacified;
Until our flag no longer serves as shroud.

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