Filed in Gather Writing Essential by on February 20, 2010 0 Comments

Casey stumbles into
The woods out of battle.
Dead bodies lie there pile
On pile, soldiers all. War’s
Waste generals think, no
Doubt. He steps carefully

Over corpse over corpse,
Foot slipping in mud, blood
And men’s spread entrails.
Knew him. Healy, Douglas,
Miller, all in death’s sleep.
Poetical way of seeing,

Describing, putting sights
In mind’s keep. Strangers
Some, unknown to eyes,
Their bodies dropped in
Postures inartistic. No
Sculptor would place

Them so. Heat of battle.
Skies through trees. No
Birds sing. Flies buzz.
Scent of death hangs in
The air. Sounds of guns
And bombs not far away

Out there. Casey ponders
Over the find, the dumping
Ground, the soldiers rest.
What God would sanction
This? What eyes of those
At home by cosy fires could

Stomach such a sight as this?
There is Hughes. Knew him
Well. His dead eyes open in
Disbelief. Hand reaching
Skyward, stiff finger pointing
Through Trees. There is the
Smell of dying on the breeze.

About the Author ()

A man who seeks truth and friendship and hopes for abetter world.

Leave a Reply