The Fallen of Gethsemane
The blood spilled on the often fluid ground
and marked the place where young men ceased to be.
Until a time when birdsong fills the air
and crimson flags demand “Look, this is me”.
I am the souls of young men everywhere
anointed by the tears of loves and family.
Avail this place with all due reverence
and don’t forget the dead beyond Gethsemane.
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