Member Poem

There is a light that burns in Algiers' night,
For those who fell, their names now out of sight,
It flickers in the Casbah's winding ways,
Where voices of the past still softly blaze.

They gave their tomorrow for our today,
These men and women, now but names we say
In hushed remembrance, as the Atlas looms,
A stolid witness to unnumbered tombs.

Algeria, do you hear them in your dreams?
The echoes of their sacrifice, it seems,
Resound still in your fields, your city streets,
In every breath of freedom that one meets.

What candles may be held to speed them all?
Not in the hands of men, but in the call
Of free-born children playing without fear,
In voices raised, defiant, loud and clear.