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November 6, 2006
why only the eleventh
do they not still die
do we not still live
enjoying the fruit of their labour
does peace not rest on such as they
surely we can do more than a single day
to treasure what these have bought
those bereft recall many more days
have lost more than we can say
do they not deserve a monument
we are free
yet are not free if any remain enslaved
ere their prison become our own
to you whose pain my freedom buys
there are no words for what you have done
but for what you have done and are doing
In his poem “In Flanders Fields” John McCrae writes these words:
“Take up our quarrel with the foe:
In a sense the battle is never won as each generation battles its own evils. Freedom is kept by constant watch or it is lost.
Until HE returns, it will not end.
Until HE returns, those who guard
our lives at cost of their own
cannot be praised too highly.
And after HE returns,
will receive their just reward.
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Each New Day A Miracle
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