A Soldier Lament

by Jane

They sent us off to fight a war

ill prepared to complete the chore,

the endless nights of burning heat

sand gritted eyes and hurting feet,

with a lack of food and water too,

but depose this man, see it through.

There's blood running in the streets,

trucks rumbling past in endless fleets

limbs lay shattered in the golden sands,

white flags waving, pleading in dirty hands,

grubby hungry children, grown to despairing men,

comrades lost in battle and never seen again.

Remember then, you, who would wage war,

that you will never tend the open sore

of loss and pain, never to be healed,

bitterness and sorrow thus congealed.

Is this what they sent us for,

to fight this bloody, pointless war.

Your religion and truth, they matter not.

It really doesn't count for just one jot

when to satisfy your vengeful mind

you wrought destruction on mankind,

the truth, I fear, can never be denied,

somewhere, some-ones child just died.

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