Today we went, by droves to learn and grow,
to Phoenix House; where men and heroes fall,
be it in war, or peace, by bomb, or woe.
How must they feel? These amputees who crawl
where once they ran, ablaze, towards their foe;
and now? From ash their spirit must be hauled.
Upon such dying flames sweet breath must blow;
a phoenix then will rise, his strength recalled,
and still a soldier’s world he’ll always know.
This beautiful place, which does so enthral;
inspires, enables, and thus bestows
such love that confidence is reinstalled.
And so under his mask the man will glow;
matter not be him big or even small,
to civvy street he now can proudly go.