In Remembrance

A sadness so deep cuts trenches across the heart

Like soldiers going over the top to do their part

Falling as though wheat was being harvested

Like leaves in puddles of mud blood and gore

A gladness at escaping the “greatness” of war

Widows and orphans lack the rejoicing

When their heroes visit them no more

They wait eagerly in case the news was too poor

“Someone’s made a mistake – he’s not dead,

I’ve heard him”.

Children huddle around the cooling fire and dream

Of fields with daddy as a kite skipped over streams

Of sailing matchstick yachts in puddles of rain

Of being scolded by him never to do it again.

But children’s play doesn’t compare when the fires rage

Tanks bellow their death gifts like dragons of a bygone age

Machine guns cackle metal chards into soft flesh

Where is the honour the fields of battle are enmeshed

With cries of agony, crying dying the odour of hell.

A sadness creeps in under the ribs nestles within

For when death rips your stomach the devil is let in

Searching for the remains of feeling and loving

Pawing at your memories trying to inject the poison

Widows live with a poverty of company and care

They see the world has shrunk and don’t even dare

To contemplate a time of laughter and gaiety

“Someone’s shot my beloved – so save a bullet for me”.