Sixty Thousand Poppies Poem by Leslie Ching

Heavy hearts
Tearful farewells
Just a distant blur
Like the streaks of mud that cover their faces;
~
Sixty thousand poppies sway
In the empty autumn breeze
Sixty thousand heroes lie
'Neath soil overseas
~
Limbs shudder with nervousness and cold
Count your blessings one last time
Like breaking from within a chrysalis
Emerge to meet the fate that awaits...
~
Many a golden dawn before
These fields of crosses came to be
Deadened wasteland stretched beyond
As far as the eye could see...
~
Dead and blood.
So much blood.
Washing the sea in a crimson red
Staining the hard, cold earth below;
~
Where the fallen lay to rest
Their lifelines flowing thin,
Poppies sprung and blossomed open
From the stony ground within;
~
The raw, burning desire to live
Fights to gather one last breath,
And the ragged maple leaf on its flagpole tall
Flutters a final salute goodbye...
~
Though sixty thousand poppies grow
Towards the endless sky,
My slumber goes on undisturbed -
My deeds live on. I did not die.