Passcendale

As we scrambled across the land in the thick mud, I put my boot through the rotting corpse of my brother. Numbed with pain, my heart cried out at the obscenity as we raced forward and struggled ahead. The mud, the blood, the whining shells And the crashing boom of the great gun. Now, years after I cannot remember that day’s battle but the feel of my foot glancing against his ribs tears my memory.