Clear To The Few Who Heed The Call

To all the veterans and servicemen and women who have contributed to keeping Canada and the world safe from tyranny, thank you for your service.

Remembrance Day is a day that means something different for many. Some consider it just another holiday, not grasping the magnitude of the sacrifice of the men and women in military service so many years ago. Their duty to country, their resolute determination to fight against tyranny was the foundation of this country - each inch of soil, each drop of blood, painstakingly forming Canada's Constitution, an order of conduct that was created to be inclusive and embracing. With every generation new potential for appreciating their sacrifice becomes clear in the form of Canada's Charter of Rights.

As each stalwart veteran passes into history their toil must not be in vain. So many have paid such a high price, devoid of party affiliation; their common cause of peace and benevolence must be remembered. As each new generation takes up their burden, we must honour them in ways that seem foreign to many - a life of service to others, going into harm's way for the greater good - but still clear to the few whose sons and daughters who heed the call.

Monte Cassino is a Benedictine Temple in Italy and has existed in one form or another since 529AD. It was a strategic location of great contention in 1943, where US forces battled to keep its high vantage point out of the hands of the German army. Many religious artifacts and manuscripts were to be transported to the Vatican for safekeeping but 15 cases never arrived; they were given to Hermann Göring on his birthday. All but three Benedictine monks survived the battle yet the temple was rebuilt, using pieces of the original temple that had been rebuilt in 1450. I wrote this for my parents, who visited the site while my father was stationed in Rome about 15 years later.

Monte Cassino

I am the Temple of Apollo, I am known by many names rebuilt and immortalized then destroyed by old regimes in Fall of '43 war was once more at my gates three monks stood and witnessed as walls were laid to waste in time I felt each fragment painstakingly replaced returning many icons; the rest have been appraised

I am the Temple of Apollo, I am known by many names the last monk curls within an alcove with his book of faith his footsteps are soft against the calm of my embrace they echo through the halls where icons once were placed

the ancient monk lies sleeping; smiles wreath his wizened face they warm the autumn air, anointing my holy place his abiding honour fills the cracks within this place though lost within reflecting, he is worthy of my grace while conflict seethes around this hill and many lives erased I am the Temple of Apollo, I am known by many names

©Trish Shields