The Troupers Poem by Obed dela Cruz

Now and then, people speak of
These 'Troupers' I never knew
You see, first I did not care
But later on I had to.

I hear stories about them
Like what they did, how they'd gone
And in the end what is left
Are memoirs of what they'd done.

Some had lived their days in war,
Some were favored to know peace
They all have stories to tell
They weren't always at ease.

You don't hear them anymore
Once, they cried to be free
Silence may speak for itself
How they fought for liberty.

And though they haven't all won
I just admire those who did.
Now, it feels like I know them
So to forget - God forbid.