Are We There Yet?

Across bloodied fields lay the fallen

Whose sacrifice secured a measure of peace

Yet the gloom of sorrow still cloying

For endless restlessness has not ceased

Years erode their earthly recall

But not in Eternity’s sphere

Where the blood of martyrs appealing

With hallowed voices the humble hear

‘t is ours the baton now bestowed

Ours the rally trumpet call

To complete the race of those now sleeping

With the Cross of Jesus Lord of All

Not far now the end of the road

Not long now a new Day dawns

When light will split tempestuous skies

When Comes One whom Heaven adores

(a poem by Mike Pike on Remembrance Sunday)