Where are the brave, those men of courage?
Where are the pious people of God?
Where are the Good who stand and rage,
Where are their voices, the views they had?
Where are the ancient values treasured?
Where are the truths their fathers died for?
Where are the ones whose anthems measured
The passion, endearment for the land they adore?
Bowed into the eerie silence of the grave
Bowed, mute, mere watchers, just like sheep,
Bowed Freedom clutches at the chains they gave
Bowed because the fading stand they cannot keep.
All rights reserved ~~~Cynthia Buhain-Baello~~~07.25.15
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem