I am posting a poem I wrote today in response to the death of the 90th member of Canadian forces in that country. Such heroic young men and women involved in such an impossible task!
In Afghan Fields
In Afghan fields the poppies blow,
Our soldiers die, and we don’t know
The reasons for their sacrifice
The outstretched hands of a needy child?
Backward peoples living wild,
Are looking for a word of hope
A deed of kindness and a word of cheer
For this they put aside their fear
In Afghan fields they reap their crops
Unhindered by the local cops
A steady stream of trade goes out
To touch the world without a doubt
The lives of brave Canucks laid down,
Why don’t we question ? Why don’t we frown?
The thirst for powder white and pure
Is this the reason they are here?
In Afghans fields their blood is shed
Brave valiant ones and now they’re dead
For these brave men , what could it mean ?
Their death for such a prize as this
Leaves anguish, pain and deep distress,
O Canada your sons are brave,
But gone too quickly to their grave.
Keith Hazell August 2008
Our soldiers die, and we don’t know
The reasons for their sacrifice
The outstretched hands of a needy child?
Backward peoples living wild,
Are looking for a word of hope
A deed of kindness and a word of cheer
For this they put aside their fear
In Afghan fields they reap their crops
Unhindered by the local cops
A steady stream of trade goes out
To touch the world without a doubt
The lives of brave Canucks laid down,
Why don’t we question ? Why don’t we frown?
The thirst for powder white and pure
Is this the reason they are here?
In Afghans fields their blood is shed
Brave valiant ones and now they’re dead
For these brave men , what could it mean ?
Their death for such a prize as this
Leaves anguish, pain and deep distress,
O Canada your sons are brave,
But gone too quickly to their grave.
Keith Hazell August 2008
1 comments:
Thank You for this Poem... For me it connects to the issue of revival you have been speaking about.
as I read the poem I was taken back to a summer camp where you were speaking and I had visited with you and Nova one afternoon. I had asked you both about world war 2 and living in England. Nova told me stories of going into the bomb shelters as children during raids. She also told me something about the whole nation prayinging at a certain hour of the night. This summer I am also re reading "the biography of Reece Howells" for about the sixth time actually. Part of the book tells of a hundred believers who gathered in Wales and interceeded through the war battle by battle, for hours a day. In the book they quote the college journals and I have been reading through and understandig how the Holy Spirit would tell them before each battle how to pray and then the book quotes the news reports afterward with the battles turning out in exactly the way the intercessors prayed. Time and again the nations leaders were quoted saying in a certain battle that Germany had unexplainably turned back etc. Anyway . . . as I read your poem I thought "I don't know if their are 100 intercessors gathered somewhere to pray through this war (perhaps there are) but I do know that the nation we live in does not get on it's knees at a certain hour and pray each night together.
Will it be that our nations will continue to fight this war in human strength until too many of our young men have died and then finally the nation will turn to God for help? And call for prayer as England did?
Of course the bigger question for me personally is Lord what are you saying to me? I have not prayed for our Prime Minister like those intercessors prayed for Churchill?
Lord speak to me ...!
Lady Wendolyn
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