Chapter 1. "Bloom and war"
Where I stand, the roses bloom,
Where my heart — war’s ruthless cry.
Tell me, Lord, why in the gloom
Our homes and towns are laid to die?
Folks fall when they should still have days
To celebrate, to pray, to love;
Instead they sleep in earth’s cold haze
And never hear the elders’ voice above.
Where I stand, the roses bloom,
Where my heart — the war’s harsh flame.
Yet, Lord, with every rising noon
We’ll speak again each fallen name.








