Harry

Harry (written by Steven Cooke) He stairs through the window In wheelchair he knows, Gabriel is just a pause behind him. His last duty, to open a door in his mind Of memories torn from 1917, where he left, Jack Fred and Bert, Pals forever. A moment singled out from a thousand days of torment Bully Beef, Baccy and sweet tea in the Morning. A pair of socks from a loved one, And friendship forged in the baptism of War. These were his treasures, His only relief Then the guns of Britannia, manufacturing widows by the gross, as Gas and Shell screamed for their quota of today’s carcass. For a moment Harry felt sadness for his foe Then it was gone No time, Heart Beating, Breath quickening, Stomach in Knots, Fear held in check to avoid the Officer’s gun, No time left, Stay Close Jack, Fred glanced, While Bert squeezed a locket around his neck A quick nod, The Soldiers farewell Then the whistle, Gabriel’s Horn, over the top His refuge abandoned, for the embrace of the fog, It masked the land, as if to avoid offending God Slowly creeping its vale of death, Gun in hand they walked into the grey. Fodder for the Machine gun, No defense, we fall. Once more our lads are summoned into oblivion. There blood sanitizing the soil with England’s youth Like a red carpet, for their comrades to walk the next day. Then the retreat, back to his rat infested trench Gods reward he thought, Then Role call, Silence for Jack, Silence for Fred, and Silence for Bert Harry felt shame in answering, for a second; he too wanted to embrace silence with his pals. But Soldiers must go on, as do the righteous And England expects For I fight for a Heavenly cause, so I’m told, Though I do not know what that is All I know is fear Although this impostor, I can live with You see my friends are gone; My humanity is lost And my soul awaits its next trial Is it a blessing that I am alive or, Just a delay, For death stalks me, waiting for his reward. My sanity saved only by the sweet tea and a ***, Dry socks, and a letter or two from home. No time for sentiment, the whistle, Memories, memories. Oh, there you are Gabriel welcome. Hello lads where you been.