MTB (2/15/66 / Vallejo, California)

Amid The Light

The secret dreads,
The bloodied heads
Buried deep beneath the garden
The way they bled,
The forgotten dead
Would make the weak man harden.

Their sins were few,
Their hearts were true
Though their cause was not the best
Their commanders knew
When the battles grew,
That here they’d be laid to rest

They placed the blame
(Those who came)
Upon their enemy’s deed
Instead of the game,
Which deserves no name
That caused their children to bleed

Yet tomorrow
They forget their sorrow,
And the salute of twenty-one guns,
Scream the moms,
“Drop the bombs! ”
On other mother’s sons.

Around the bend,
Perhaps an end
To the ceaseless petty fight,
But now we send
Our son and friend
To blind deaths amid the light.

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Comments (1)

Powerful, provocative and a harsh reminder of the futility of war. Particularly liked the alliteration and assonance in the first stanza. The use of rhyme and rhythm created the perfect mood for this poem. Kind regards. Justine.