Memorial day is for the fallen. Veteran’s day is for the survivors and the weight they carry.

Mend the shield and hone the sword
Pray for peace as its own reward.
Watch the light at break of day
and stand your watch, come what may.

Bloodied fields cry with ghosts
While battle lines take their posts.
Grim the line in early dawn
And voices raise their battle song.

Yet when it’s time to count the dead
The grizzled warrior bows his head.
The wounded twist in fever dreams
Naught he can do will ease their screams.

Grim and old he turns to the field:
And gathers the dead on their shields.
His heavy heart no glory finds
Just sorrow weighting heart and mind.

The time will come when bards will sing,
And history brag of bitter things,
But warriors gather to find release
And drink in sorrow at the price of peace.

The Price of Peace copyright © Heather Strickler 2026 all rights reserved.