Monday, 11 November 2013

Last Letter Home

My Dearest,

I've sent countless muddy letters
while trying to decipher words
between the shrieks of shells
and the sudden spit of sniper rifles

We came in thinking we’d have
evil backed into a dark corner
only to realize we are here
simply because we are here

Fighting machine gun bullets with the
breasts of men to claim cratered land
Oh, what I would give to walk on solid
ground instead of mud and duckboards

Tired of war dirt and rain drenched blood
Our rum rations no match for the heavy
stench of death and rotting sandbags
It barely challenges our recent memories

Graves in foreign fields were not on the
minds of those who flocked in the thousands
in hopes to flutter hearts, impress neighbours
and get a crack at the “Almighty Kaiser” himself.

I write with numb and brittle bones tonight
Will you remember me when the time comes
for telegrams, drawn blinds and the columns of
names that will fill the pages of your newspapers?

By: Celeste Medbery  27-oct-13Written for Remembrance Day.

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