The Bird and Baby

In silent fields and pastures green,
Stand stones and towers tall.
Some bear names and others not,
Most are fairly small.

They came from places rich and poor,
Cities, towns, and farms.
Upon the day, their letters came,
They bravely took up arms.

In holes and trenches far from home,
On roadways paved with blood,
They stood with fear upon their lips,
But courage on their tongues.

Freedom scarcely mattered now,
As bullets grazed the field.
It wasn’t liberty they sought,
Or their enemies to yield.

Somewhere far away they knew,
That people wept and prayed.
And as the bombs fell all around,
They wished that they had stayed.

Yet rise they did as sirens called,
And charged into the fray,
With knowledge in their hearts that this,
Would be their final day.

No, I don’t think it was freedom that spurred,
Those sons and fathers on.
It takes a deeper love than that,
To die without a song.

I think that in their final hours,
The reason that they stood,
Was too fight for home and friends,
And family bad or good.

Now as they lay in silent fields,
I think we who walk above,
Can honor those who fell for us,
And remember how to love.

-Taylor Glenn Pritchard