Member Poem

Make asses of us if you must,
when you speak of our misdeeds.
As our ashes settle into dust
please grant us one small courtesy:

Remember we were not just passive cattle
lowing in our country's golden fields;
though losing ground with every battle,
we were digging in our heels.

Tell your children we did not submit to die,
nor smiled dumbly at the drones
that rained death on us from azure sky
and stole our future, our children - our home.

We stood bare-faced in the morning sun,
our eyes turned westward in appeal.
When hope was scarce, our hearts were one,
unyielding to the iron heel.

So to the heroes - glory!
And none to those who wished us dead.
As long as one man lives to share our story,
sing of triumph, valor, and strength instead.

--

I recently had the opportunity to visit the KGB occupation museum in Riga and was incredibly moved by the enduring support of Ukraine by the Latvian people, when much of the world - and the news cycle - seems to have largely moved on. As someone with family ties to a formerly USSR-occupied Slavic nation, the poem comes from a place of reinvigorated solidarity.