The eagle twisted free from shackles of bondage when he saw the hoisted flag
Uplifting the spirits of exhausted soldiers who had begun this journey in rags
The eagle spread his wings wide as he was able to break free of his chains
He soared to depths of eternity for every soul of every soldier that remained.
The chains of oppression broke free in every Pole who watched this flight
And the canons stopped for a moment to let victory shine through the night.
The white eagle set free at last looked down as a heavy teardrop fell
Upon a deadly battleground of his brothers who fought the road to hell.
An Eagle’s Teardrop
High on a hill, shadows of the monastery fall upon silent rows of crosses
In Monte Cassino’s cemetery honoring Polish soldier’s heaviest losses
An eagle flies over the cascading slope as if still guarding his domain
His freedom upheld by determined warriors on this once bloody terrain
The fallen lay closest to the beauty of the Abbey of which they tried to free
Now in a twist of fate, it is the Polish soldiers that from the Abbey one can see
The eagle looks back at a time in war when his soldiers were young and strong
Fighting a timeless battle against the evil that had caused so much wrong
Everyday was merciless as their Polish blood soaked into foreign ground
This once majestic landscape shattered amidst the wars deafening sound
The eagle led his wounded through an insufferable journey to get here
Through the darkest nights of despair, there was no time left for fear
They were losing their beloved Poland but they knew the fight must go on
And the bugle finally blew for them victorious on an early May dawn
The Poles had finally captured the most challenged and bloodiest hill
And their nation’s red and white flag blew atop the silenced still
The eagle flew above the destruction as his soldier’s broken bodies lay below
And those present who missed the call of death are the only ones who know
The strength and valour it took to fight for everything that was to remain free
While leaving behind their brothers in this battered wasteland of debris
They slept and prayed in mud soaked dreams of families left behind
And hoped one day to leave this war for the sake of all mankind.
The day came to an end for many chosen to die in this loneliness of youth
Their lives were a gift to all that survived in this mission of justice and truth
The teardrop showered the ground below with a mist of solemn haze
So that all who walked this foreign soil would never forget these days
Poppies would grow again each spring as they had always done before
But poppies will never bloom from here untouched by the Polish Corps
Between the eagle’s teardrop and every soldier’s dying breath
Monte Cassino will forever remain the Polish soldier’s mountain of death.
When the warmth of early spring touches the rebirth of this sacred ground
An unbroken stream of the eagle’s teardrops will forever here be found
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