The Aftermath

Ypres, was by far the worst: Fields were littered with lost memories, Dismembered dreams, Faded laughs and gestures- The little nuances of life, The things that made us tick... All forgotten. Some men walked among the bodies, smiling: "Our fallen heroes, you shall rise and be commended for your service in the Kingdom of Heaven! May you rest in peace..." They saluted their fate, Eyes wet and wide with pride. Yet others glued their gaze to the purity Of the sky, void from sights of violence Or the artifacts of war- Remains of fallen friends, And the faces of the enemy- "I rather not know". By the second year I forgot what we were Fighting for... Ourselves? Loved ones? God? A ceaseless nightmare. Here, a red shroud of violence and madness fell Upon the men- A suffocating scarlet heat, That sought to burst out through the horror Of the war, Different voices whisper: "I will never see my family again..." "I left him to die... it's my fault..." "I have lost the grace of God..." And now in unison: "I am not human". Some men turned against their brothers- We were all in on it. The trenches were our world, We were invisible, Shapeless, And men became like rabid animals; Murder, Rape, Self-Mutilation- Degeneration, And it was finished. Some came home, But all were dead, Trudging along the wartorn path, Never to find peace again- Lost in The Aftermath.