Another year, once more a poem
Still combat troops are far from home
In Afghanistan, they go through Hell
Only silence greets those who fell.
Our men and women, now six long years
Have had to face their grief and tears
And wonder when they'll face death
As fellow soldiers draw, their final breath
Families battle through the loss and pain
Of those now gone, of those now lame,
Many lives cut short, over too soon
Now pieces of Heaven among stars and the moon.
Each year we ask how many more
Will pass the way of those before?
Names etched upon a granite stone
A flag draped box their transport home.
Whether years ago, or modern day
REMEMBER them while wreaths you lay,
November's poppies wear with pride
Pray for those who fought, who died.
Jacqueline Black - 2008