Albums of War
I saw those men in solemn chain trooping from the line
hand on shoulder, link to link their bandaged eyes gas blind.
The image burned upon my soul, and tied me to their chain
A scene imbued with haunting light, my retina retains.
The pock marked fields of battered earth with human debris clad,
the lifeless shell shocked look of men, stare neither sane nor mad.
The sepia tinted photographs of horrors captured mime
Burst like exploding shrapnel in the crater of my mind
The pages turn and blur the eyes of we who gaze aghast
and rational defies the sombre images that pass
The jaundiced eye of victory, a truth tells through the lens
but monochromes in battered frames declare true fate of men
These albums of the ghosts of war demand a heavy toll
with nightmares of the conscience that stain the very soul
Untidy groups of forfeit men awaiting fates last chance
accuse from yellowed paper in their posed heroic stance
Gaunt and lost they blindly stare with sad and frightened gaze
their memory like photographs are fading with the glaze
Creased and tear stained photo cards, memorabilia of a war
Evidence and remonstrance like poppies bloody flower.
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