Against the red of rising sun,
A million stories, more
Whisper to bring the years undone,
Call back a dreadful underscore.
Talk to me, I’m listening,
Bring anger, tears and shame,
Let your toils rise up and sing,
Cry pain and shout your names.
Today our peace is piercing, loud;
Our comforts now abrasive
As fury builds and sorrow shrouds
For what you had to give.
These memories don’t belong to me
Yet I will make them mine
You are those I’ll never see
Yet long will thanks enshrine.
Categories: HistOracles, Stories & Poems
Tags: ANZAC day, ANZACS, poetry, rememberance, Remembrance Day, soldiers, veterans, War
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