Artillery raged ferociously overhead,
Howitzer’s barrages choke the sky,
Bullets whistle with downfalls heavy cry
Valiant and vicious, The soldiers bitter sacrifice.
The world distorts as deadly clouds warp,
Stealing and incarcerating our young souls,
Haunting cries escape the fog, GAS! GAS! GAS!
Monstrous gurgles fill stagnant air,
All about deaths harbingers hold prayer,
Rancid decrepit cacophony of warfare.
I do not know how my son died
Patriotism slaughtered our youth.
All I am left with…
A photograph… A certificate…
How proud he was to wear their uniform of war,
Not knowing what he would really died for,
Our countries calculated indifferent lie,
Sending a generation of our sons to die,
Betrayed by those they swore to protect,
While grieving families mournfully wept,
Apathetic and callous, the generals and leaders,
Those who will be their eternal gatekeepers,
It is you who should be on your hands and your knees,
Digging the graves for your victims like these,
While heartless and unending, the war rages on,
The unquenchable symptom of a disease called man.
Poem © Phen Weston