The Last Of The Y Brigade Poem by Janet Mary Zylstra

We came to fight a war, to liberate a poor
Nation from the bondage
Of its despot.
We came with tank and gun; we thought that we had won
The freedom of a land.
Instead, we died.
They drove us down in hordes, scythed us with knives and swords,
Forced us upon our knees
To beg for life.
We were but left in ten: all brave and stalwart men.
They felled us, one by one,
Like wasted trees.
Our cries were loud and long; our will to live was strong.
Our captors mocked our fears
As captors do.
Now, on my own I stand, with none to hold my hand.
I'll be the last to fall.
I am alone