Patriots in Uniform

05/07/2025

10/28/2024

It is the soldier,
not the President,
who gives us democracy.

It is the soldier,
not the Congress,
who takes care of us.

It is the soldier,
not the reporter,
who has given us Freedom of Press.

It is the soldier,
not the poet,
who has given us Freedom of Speech.

It is the soldier,
not the campus organizer,
who has given us the Freedom to Demonstrate.

It is the soldier,
who salutes the flag,
who serves beneath the flag,
and whose coffin is draped by the flag
that allows the protester to burn the flag.

10/28/2024

I am the Unknown Soldier, forgotten and ignored

When once the war is over and peace and quiet assured

We fought for you and your country and now that we are dead

We rest in quiet exclusion, ’cause nothing more is said

Of how we did our duty, that you may sleep in peace

When once the foe was vanquished, and the strife of war had ceased

The country called upon us to do what needs to be done

To oust the vicious enemy and ensure the war was won

Our near and dear ones blessed us and sent us full of pride

To defend our country’s honour and some were new-wed brides

We went and fought your battles, most of which we won

Some never came back, all were mothers’ sons

Our bodies they do lie there, on hill and vale and plain

Exposed to all the elements of snow and ice and rain

So many were so anxious, some still do wait in vain

What can you do to lessen our loved ones’ grief and pain?

Our last rites were not given, we died a soldier’s death

Our eldest sons kept waiting, their hopes could not be met

We went and did our duty, we do not ask for much

Only a place of honour, our loved ones’ hearts to touch

A place where they can think of happy days gone by

To pray on the lonesome morrow and if need be stand and cry

Although we have left earth’s orbit and need to rest in peace

Our souls are not past caring, our pain will never cease

Till you and the country’s leaders create a haloed space

For a fitting War Memorial, on valour and honour-based.

10/28/2024

If I should die, think only this of me:
That there’s some corner of a foreign field
That is for ever England. There shall be
In that rich earth a richer dust concealed;
A dust whom England bore, shaped, made aware,
Gave, once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam;
A body of England’s, breathing English air,
Washed by the rivers, blest by suns of home.

And think, this heart, all evil shed away,
A pulse in the eternal mind, no less
Gives somewhere back the thoughts by England given;
Her sights and sounds; dreams happy as her day;
And laughter, learnt of friends; and gentleness,
In hearts at peace, under an English heaven.