The Urban Battlefield
(The final utterance and testament
of a fallen comrade. Belfast 1979)
He
never knew
till he laid there naked.
(A withering heap of travesty.)
How blue the sky
how green the grass,
each tiny blade reminiscent
of a gentle touch from a bygone age.
Each wound on fire,
yet a confound complement
to a burning passion
of a love he was about
to leave behind.
He
saw formidable clouds
begin to threaten
the moment,
yet gently
refreshing droplets
tantalize the mood,
blend with a body
and it’s blood, before
washing a mind
free of it’s pain
forever!
© Harry J Horsman 1994
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