Reading a book again today
About war and desolation,
Which drew our country in,
Glorified the fight,
Took our boy children
And our men.

 

Not far away,
Except in aeons of time
Yet not forgotten.

 

‘The Great War�?they said.
They called it great
To fight
In mud, and trenches.

 

Hell holes.

 

Countless men
Husbands, fathers, sons,
Herded in like cattle

 

To an abattoir.

 

Thousand upon thousand
Died
For yards of ground.

 

On our side, and on theirs.

 

Thousands more,
Forced to fight
In embodiment of Hell,
Maimed, disfigured,
Empty shells,
Devoid of life
Within.

 

Or lost their minds
To horror
To grief
To fear
Deserted, dishonoured,
Executed
By their own side.

 

Women mourned,
Fatherless children
Cried and starved

 

For the futile
Glorification
Of the leaders who
Stayed snug at home,
Touched only by what they read
And heard, and
From the suffering
No lesson learned.

 

Though years have passed

 

We must not forget.