by Shane Bellegarde

The purest love, untainted,
Is the courage and valour defined
By those who gave their lives
So freedom we might find.

Amidst the decaying bodies,
Claustrophobic in the trenches.
Now every fallen man
Is a soul God gently clenches.

This caused by childish greed,
And the lusting for almighty power.
Yet each and every man stood strong
Until the final hour.

They faced death with honour,
Fighting through the pain.
Then it seems they were forgotten,
Lying face down in the rain.

Our freedom’s wrapped in blood!
A gift from those now gone.
Leaving a heroic legacy,
For us to humbly carry on!

This poem was contributed by Vishwajeet, a regular visitor to the site