Tabitha Thornton-Swan


What were you thinking when you died?
Did your whole life flash across your eyes; did you relive the best moments and sigh into an everlasting sleep?
Or was it too quick for that? Did you die in a blaze of heat and pain, red clouding your vision as you begged and screamed for relief? Did anyone listen?
Maybe you died giving up; died enveloping the numbness and whispering goodbyes.
Or maybe you died fighting; fighting for your life.
Did you hope your name would be remembered; were you scared of being forgotten?
What would you say if you saw us now? If you saw the war, the misery, the destruction that we still leave in our path, what would you say? I guess we haven’t learnt. Maybe we’ll never learn.
What would you do if you knew your name had been lost?
Maybe you’d weep, knowing you’d been forgotten. Your name will never carve a marble pillar; will never be engraved on a memorial. But we will never truly forget.
If I told you: you reside amongst the unnamed. We’ll never remember your face, and we’ll never write your name and think of you.
But parts of you will never be forgotten. We’ll never forget what you fought for; your bravery will never be lost.
Unnamed soldier; we will never forget your sacrifice.