My Return To Normandy

High on the Normandy cliffs Looking out over Pointe du Hoc As cold Atlantic winds whisper out The names of the brothers I left behind Now only fine marble monument shadows Dot the trenches and empty emplacements As the final testimony of the fallen Still ringing frightened with those desperate voices Proclaiming both their lives and death That they were ever here… In the emerald hills of Collville Sur Mur I can still hear the phantom naval shells screaming Underneath the crying of men Pulverized and dying in their comrades arms All for the belief of the land from which they hail While the roaring waves wash the still bloody sands In and endless and rending cycle That silent cacophony of brother and foe Call out to me still for comfort and aid Asking only to be remembered…