Saturday 11 November 2023

To an Unknown Soldier.

A prose poem I'm working on about WW1. All comments welcome.


I couldn't feel the pain, hear the blasts, endure the bloodiness of it all, or see the mental scars that you carried while you still lived, as you witnessed friends and comrades dying around you.
Because I wasn't there.


I didn't see the carnage, feel the gas blister my lungs and scar my body.
I did not experience the sickening, never-ending mud, slowly rotting my feet in sodden boots, neither did I suffer that nauseating fear in my gut, or see those shells that showered around you.
Because I wasn't there.


I never saw the damage, the aftermath of that war.
The hardship of starting over - the poverty conflict creates.  The Spanish 'flu that killed more than the war itself.  The difficulty of carrying on or ever feeling normal again.
Because I wasn't there.


I only know the precious freedom,
we take for granted now -  at least in this country.  I hope we always have it .
Even though it all happened again, I thank you for your sacrifice in the Great War. Yes, the one that was supposed to end all wars.

This is why I wear my poppy with pride.


Because  YOU WERE there.

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