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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

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