See the people filing thru
they stop and look
at the silent soldier
before them, he lies;
ashen-faced, stoically tensed,
silently they walk away
expressionless.
How ugly war is!
How hateful and cruel!
It is so … war is ugly!
Lifeless and silent,
pale and empty
the corpse stays;
youth ended
prematurely,
what a waste.
The grave surrounded,
mourners cry,
circling endlessly
with fixed eyes;
in the middle
the casket lies
laden with flowers
and farewell notes.
The people walk
with inundated feelings,
faces fearing
the eerie visit;
death has come
to the young,
to the old,
to them all.
Wondering when
the war would end,
but the end is uncertain.
Politicians extol
the brave young man,
but death mars
their flowery speech.
Walking slowly, tired
looking at death;
death has come
how long its visit,
nobody knows.