The Question Remains.

The question remains;
Why did they die?
Why were they lost?
On whose whim? On whose lie?

Did they die for their country?
For the rich? For the poor?
Or perhaps for the future;
So the future held more?

Did they die bathed in glory?
Did they suffer much pain?
Did their souls stay there with them,
On that blood spattered plain?

Every year we remember.
Same day, every year.
We take time to remember.
Take time to shed tears.

They died so to teach us,
But the world did not learn.
There were more wars, more death;
More young lives took their turn.

Every year I feel anger.
Shed the same, angry tears.
When will the world learn the lesson?

- Maybe next year.


Written by Alice Collison; 11/11/08 at 11:03am