Samantha St. Croix won the Legion Branch 18 Remembrance Day Poetry Contest for her poem "Remembering". Her poem is also entered in the next level of judging. Good luck, Samantha!
Here I am standing tall.
I hear the flutter of soaring wings.
I see the sun’s golden rings.
The wings, a rainbow of butterflies.
The rings, a luminescent sunrise.
I smell lilac and a scent of rose.
I feel the heat kiss my clothes.
Starting the day with a prayer.
The morning stage takes its call.
The East season starts it all.
Here I am standing tall.
I hear the bird sing its song.
I see the flowers growing long.
The bird, sending a cry of love.
Flowers, embracing the sky above.
I smell the berry-scented air.
I feel the sun beat through my hair.
Reaching for my soul to dwell.
The afternoon stage starts to fall.
The South season takes its call.
Shaawnong
Mirror, mirror on the black wall,
Here I am standing tall.
I hear the crunch of crisp leaves.
I see the wave of the trees.
Leaves, an array of red and brown.
Treetops, drop their thorny crown.
I smell the fragrant apple cider.
I feel the wind getting wilder.
Cedar baths heal each ache,
Evoking in me a flowing lake.
The evening stage begins to fall.
The West season takes its call.
Sha’ngabi’hanong
Mirror, mirror on the white wall,
Here I am standing tall.
I hear the quiet crush of snow.
I see the blazing fire aglow.
Ice blanket growing thicker.
Flames dimly start to flicker.
I smell the faint scent of pine.
I feel heat and cold intertwine.
Sweet grass engulfs the air,
Ending the day with a final prayer.
The night stage takes its call.
The North season ends it all.
Keewatinong
Mirror, mirror on the wall,
I am still standing tall.
Reflecting on the past year,
Reverse sequence of the sphere.
Winter ended with a prayer,
As sweet grass engulfed the air.
Fall evoked a flowing lake,
When cedar baths healed each ache.
Summer reached for my soul to dwell,
The sage burnt its earthy smell.
Spring started with a prayer,
As tobacco smoke filled the air.
Mirror, mirror on the wall,
Here I am standing tall.
Through the seasons I sense the call
Of the medicine wheel upon the wall.
Remembering
By Samantha St. Croix
Days ago when guns were near,
Many fought with much to fear.
Many fired their guns with nothing to see,
At only what was thought to be.
Left in the field were only remorse and sorrows,
Believing that there was no tomorrow.
Poppies lie row by row across the field
Only to show their loved ones to be sealed.
Death left a headache that no one can heal,
But their love left a memory no one can steal.
Loved ones brought letters and flowers to bury the dead,
Hoping that it could have been someone else instead.
Remembering the day of history to tell,
Honouring all of those who gravely fell.
November eleventh is a date to commemorate,
A silence of two minutes we shall await.
On the eleventh hour of the eleventh day,
We stand in silence, bow our heads and say,
“In Flanders fields the poppies blow,
Between the crosses row on row”
The soldiers fought now we must repay,
On the eleventh hour of the eleventh day,
We all join together with love to say,
Thank you for showing me the way.
