Anthony W. Pahl


The echoes of a war resound throughout
the lives of those who die.
And death doth silence the mournful calls
of the wounded and despised.
In death, the joy of glory dulls,
forgotten as the last bell tolls.
The taxes paid in mortal blood
may enrich the world with passing time
but wars, like footsteps on the moon,
are eternally defined.
We know they’re there,
though the “why” is lost –
the glorious adventure defines the truth;
reality is changed by selective minds
and a warrior’s honour is the cost.

So I cry no more for hidden truths
for they are lost in time.
I cry instead for stolen years
and for your children’s child and mine.