.
Young men are running through the snow:
They do not know
Where or why they go;
Or they cautiously trudge,
Thinking of home:
Each is a drudge,
Carrying a hidden burden of fear
Three thousand miles to westward
Smug incompetents in lush ministry offices,
Who sent without proper protection
Each platoon and section,
Comfortably sip their coffees;
Not for them the worry that an IED
Will throw them without warning high in the air,
Blown into bloody shrieking pieces,
Slowly floating down.
________________________________________________
________________________________________________
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment