Normandy no more


As I prayerfully reflect on the many lives lost on D Day, I wrote this poem. Writing it got me thinking about my grandfather, who lied about his age to fight in the infantry division in World War I for the Canadian Expeditionary Force, which was the forerunner to the Canadian Armed Forces. He was only 17. Bompa, the British term for grandfather, was PFC Sandford Dobson. He paid a high cost for serving his country with emphysema from mustard gas exposure.
Every morning my bompa got up he would cough for what seemed to me to feel like an eternity before he could start his day. I cried in my spirit with each cough I would hear. thinking what a horrible price he paid for the freedoms we enjoy
 As a boy of five I see him fight for his breath more than ever before. Sweat is dripping down his face.  He reaches down to pet our chihuaha, Sandy. He dies later that day from his third heart attack.
The lessons he taught me about being a man who gives to others, really listens to and loves others, has a zest for life, who is a man of integrity, I pray will always be a part of who I am.
Bompa, this poem is my gift to all who live with the devastation of war. We must never forget the sacrifices made on those cold and lonely fields of battle.
Let us give all veterans and those serving as soldiers from Private to General, from Seaman to Admiral, the respect and all the benefits they deserve.
To do any less than this shames us as a society.
Normandy no more

They land on Normandy beach

They come from village, town, city, farm

Defeating Hitler’s evil reign is their goal

Hitler’s terror must end of mother, father, brother, sister,friend

These teenagers 16,17

These young men with the dream of university, career

With courage go into the path of fear

Far too young to die, for freedom for you, for I

We remember the counsellors, chaplains, nurses, doctors

Who see the wounds of war

Shattered minds

Shattered bodies

Shattered futures

Shattered lives

For soldiers who all give their best

For those who’ve gone to their eternal rest

For soldiers willing to go after the dictator, the brute

For those with courage resolute

For those who go into the fray

This for all of us we need to pray

That there would never be another Normandy



About osborne2029

I enjoy spending time with people just having a coffee or talking about life, philosophy, religion, politics or sharing a favorite joke or story. We learn from one another as we interact and share our joys, challenges and even our times of sadness. I enjoy reading, writing, singing and sharing in the blessing of community whether that is one on one or in groups. I'm married and am powned by two kitties named Sir William of Lounge a.k.a. Sir Lounge a Lot and Princess Catherine of Chaos a.k.a. Her Royal Highness Catherine of Englehart. I m in an M.A.-Ph.D program with St. James the Elder Theological Seminary to train to become a psychotherapist and priest. Let us pray for and reach out to each other with kindness, love and an embracing compassion. We can working together be servants with two open hands to those in need so that hate, indifference and inequality would lose and love will win. The peace and abounding joy of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you.

Posted on June 6, 2014, in On Circumstances and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 2 Comments.

  1. In tears here, powerful . . . thanks for sharing!

    • It was a tough poem to write. It took me back to memories of my grandfather serving in World War 1.

      Today, I added a brief reflection on what my grandfather’s sacrifice means to me and how it helped shape my character.

      I pray it will uplift many families and those who work with veterans and active soldiers, who see the wounds of war and conflict.

      I hope it leads to a greater respect for our veterans and those who are serving in the military.



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