I have not witnessed the bloodshed of a young man,
Nor have I felt the loss of a brother die by my side.
But I have walked through those haunting fields of glory,
And felt the sullen winds of their stolen innocence surround me.

I have never experienced the song of an old man,
Lulling his wife to sleep for the very last time.
But I have felt my mother’s heartbeat,
As she lay silently still, unconscious, unable to move.

I have not endured endless nights of suffering,
Under the hand of a drunken outrage.
But I have felt fear tremble through my body,
Awaiting for their next attack.