I fought the battle proud, braved every blow,
Took arrows deep inside my seething breast;
I felt the sabre cleave through flesh and bone
And studded mace oft grazed my close-cropped crest;
A dragoon’s lance once pierced my naked flank;
A musket ball struck down the horse I rode,
There falling into mud and blood I sank,
Rose up, grasped blade, and into combat strode.
Each conflict lost or won I faced with pride,
Each breath expressed in anger, not in pain;
The tears I shed were for the brave who died—
That we live free, beyond a tyrant’s reign.
Know that this life, this blood, this breath we give,
Is held in trust—that freedom may yet live.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.