War Poem.

No different to our fathers sons,

Our boys we bring them back,

In shrouds of rubber plastic,

Wrapped tight in Union Jack.

We say that they are glorious

We say that they are brave

We call the boys our heroes

And sold them to their graves

And if we say they died in vain

We invalidate the invalids

And make a mock of given life

And shatter bitter comfort held dear close

By grieving wife

They did not die in vain

These friends

They did not throw their turn away

They died that we may see ourselves

More clearly

In the shattered mirror of their fragmented shells

Really

For all must cut with love the knife

And heal the wounded World one day

For until we do

Each one is prey

For our collective violence.

Anon Author