They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old,
We remember them each and everyone, every year, it is our duty
We solemnly speak their names, we treasure their memories in our hallowed halls
We honour their fate on memorials and museum walls.
Kick back, flashlight, night flare
We are back there
I do solemnly swear to bring honour and bear witness
To my country but he is missing in action.
tap tap….clack clack…. frack frack
I scour the wall of missing people.
©Alison Jean Hankinson
First line taken from For the Fallen- by Laurence Binyon. Last line taken from “Leaving time” Jodi Picoult. For Bridging the Gap at d’Verse.
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Hues of Hankinson 
So well done, from present honor to past nightmare.
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Beautiful remembrance and concern for those missing.
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I like the short “A” sound and how it brought a faster pace to a few lines. To me this signified a break from the solemnity of the rest of your poem and into the harsh reality of life and death on the front lines.
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Yes! Zactly! Amaya says it better here than I do down there (figures – hehe)
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I love how you used the lines to honor those that are missing…
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Your poem transports me vividly from the solemn pageant of remembrance straight into the field of battle. This is what happens in post-traumatic stress, and it is a tender and real, and so sad to be missing those who are missing. Visceral, cadenced, it is the sound of battle and hearts rending. Well done and important.
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Thank you. XX
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We are in Washington DC for the month while major rehab is being done on pipes in our condo building. Last week we went to Arlington Cemetery – somber and beautiful at the same time. Across a field/lawn of many white headstones, in the distance, we saw a flag draped coffin on a caisson pulled by horses – a full-military honors burial. We also stood in silent attention at the changing of the guard at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier – so your poem hit close to home for me.
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Much love to you. XXXX
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