The Ridge

• Jye Cox, Grade 9
• Poetry
• 2017

Up the ridge we go,
Griping on tight
Strength weakening, like snow
Heads held up high.
We follow orders as we must
“Fire at the enemy”
While wiping away the dust.
Blood running down. Minutes past
Nothing made a sound
One man down. Guns fired
Bodies lay around.
Retreat, Retreat
Down the ridge we go
300 came down
While men on the ridge,
Scream loud…”Help, help!”