The Sunday whirl:
"Remember"
My
land in flames,
The
enemy’s enormous,
A
giant spider spins its fylfot web
Of
death, and suffering, and slavery.
My
people: men, women, children
Turning
overnight into the old time warriors.
Their
armor – unbroken spirit, and unshaken faith
In
triumph of goodness over dark and evil.
Forefathers’
blessing is bestowed on them,
Fills
them with grace as they go out to battle
For
what is right. The struggle’s long and
fierce,
But
ends in splendor, when the rugged banners
Of
what once was an undefeated army
Are
thrown in heaps onto the cobble stones
Of
my own city. For there is no force
That
cows my land, my people into slaving.
The
past not so remote, but forgetful
Man
tends to be, so let us not forget.
May
our minds turn into marble stelas
With
names imprinted on them, names of millions.
Let’s
read them all, all spelled in golden letters,
And
bow our heads in silence,
And
remember.
© Alexandra A. Palmer
Live for the Love of it,
