I remember when we laughed in death’s face.
Young and brave in years and heart
full of life and knowing no disgrace.
For justice, we walked the jungle path
to the beat of freedom in a foreign place
where no thought of this war’s aftermath
intruded on the nowness of honour’s grace,
reliance, and trust; and restrained wrath
sharpened the flavour of brotherhood’s taste;
to instil the core of life into each heart
till an ounce of sound left naught but waste.

And the mason’s mallet and chisel records...

©Anthony W. Pahl
15 May 2001