Branch97 - Oliver

I shuffle my feet through the autumn leaves,
A fresh chill is in the air.
On November 11th a mother grieves,
Her son is no longer there.

That morning in Ottawa a soft rain falls,
Canadians gather on Parliament Hill.
In Afghanistan a soldier’s cry calls,
A dusty wind erodes his will.

Cameras linger on time-worn faces,
Wrinkled eyes still glinting with pride.
Young recruits eagerly train at bases,
Soon replacing those who have died.

The singing of “O Canada” rings strongly,
A poppy over each person’s heart.
Nations continue to bicker wrongly,
Government leaders so far apart.

Upon the cenotaph, wreaths are placed,
Bright ribbons bearing names.
The ills of society can’t be erased,
There’s no point playing deadly games.

In that minute of silence we remember
Heads bowed, tears fall to the ground
Hope seems nothing but a dying ember
Faith in humanity whispers not a sound

For that moment I pause to consider
The face of freedom today
Is it smiling or is it bitter?
Because of all that we’ve thrown away.

A trumpet plays The Last Post,
The bagpipes notes float bravely after.
I am resolved to remember most,
That in the world there’s still some laughter.

I must shrug off the heaviness of this date,
And be thankful for the free life I live.
Make a promise not to surrender to hate,
Be a strength, share love, just give.

Author: Mallory Abbie