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Poem: War
by Liam
This is the day for the becoming of me
I awoke to song, from the sycamore tree
To a ray of red, shot from a crimson dawn
Left those dreams of battle and horn
To shout the praise of days to come
Of truth, of love, of life, of fun
I stamped my feet to the pipers drum
Shook with fear from
Those short range guns
To battle, to die, to rage and rant
The young men screamed “till death ya part “
In the smoke, the slash, the heat of steel
The moan of pain, we red coats feel
We fell to be soaked in blood covered mud
While others stabbed and cut and killed
The battle plan had been revealed
Ripped by the blast of a short range shell
The day I died and left that hell
My soul had gone, my heart stopped too
Into light, it’s comfort true.
I entered not those pearly gates
Nor heeded the call of those forlorn
The sycamore sang of a new fresh morn
The dawn, a light with a message to sing
This is the day for the becoming of me
Return to the broken body I see
Free, cried my mind
Free, sang my heart
Free, of death which almost laughed
Limp, stumble, heal, took I so long
It’s the song I now sing
Each day at the dawn
Reminds me now forever long
Reminds me now of my life, my name
Reminds me, of the game of give and grow
Of happy friends my family know
To share, to laugh, to love and cry
That was not my day to die
That was my day to become what you see
The one
The true
The me
