Born of voices from the past. π First Place - Monthly Poetry Contest (Form: End Rhyme) |
Carry On! A chiseled stone, a worn, gray plot, disrupts the weeds and marks the spot where a forgotten soldier rests. With his blood, this ground was blessed. Though silent, I could almost hear the sound of taps faintly but clear. I wiped aside the dirt and grime to read his words passed down through time: βIt is with faith I made my stand for each manβs freedom in this land. I ask forgiveness on my soul. I died to keep the Union whole.β I felt the words reach out to me. His sacrifice - my legacy - gave me the freedoms I hold dear and suddenly it became clear. The faith he had, I thought was gone, but his last words said βCarry On! Weβre branches from a single tree; our strength lies in our unity.β We each share a common goal: from the many came a whole, a nation where itβs understood the meaning of βa common good.β To that end, we take a vow that echoes, in the here and now, born of voices from the past to carry on until our last. An entry for the June round of "Monthly Poetry Contest" Prompt: Grey Plot. Form: End Rhyme AABB Word Count: 186 Line Count: 28 |