Wednesday, November 06, 2013

The naming of the dead

I do not know them,
these whose sweat and blood
congeal on foreign soil.
Their names, as strangers,
assault the local tongue,
falling, misspoken,
if spoken at all.
Friends and enemies,
in mingled paths -
their misfortunate destiny
tangled together by vaguery.
I do not know them,
their names fill no lines
in my address book,
their phone numbers
share no history with me.
But I will name them;
every mother’s son,
every missing father,
every soul
upon its new adventure.
I will name them,
proclaim them,
claim back their pride
for all are hero,
foreign soil or no,
who jeopardise themselves
for me.

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