In the Midst of War
Thick gravy mud incessantly pulling at my boots,
Sucking and squelching it’s distaste at its failure with each step I evade its clutches,
Brown hail flying in all directions ripping into flesh and taking eyes,
Ears reverberating with the excruciating din of falling shells,
Accompanied with the desperate screams of my comrades.
Like hells orchestra,
Low rumbles culminating in shrieking sopranos,
Piercing, Deafening,
It’s very lack of percussion spreads fear throughout the ranks,
Through it all there comes a sinister silence,
The true calm before the next storm,
Medics being screamed for in every direction,
Instructions being bellowed to grasp some pathetic sense of order,
In this chaotic pandemonium we push on without hope,
Following orders,
The crescendo of destruction starts again,
Louder, Angrier,
The poetic lunacy of dying in vain,
Our last moments played out like some poorly written depraved play,
Cannon fodder,
Our own remains serving as the uneven carpet of sickly maroon within our trench,
The smell so powerful that I baulk,
Eyes constantly stinging and streaming,
All my senses being flayed in unison,
This is the price we pay for your freedom,
This is the truth of what we endure,
So many deserving so much yet left with so little,
Lest we forget,
Lest we forget.
Lest we forget.
Copyright © Warren Marc | Year Posted 2019
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