I remember well, the curse of Sarajevo <br />My friends cheering, the black line <br />'We will be home before Christmas'. <br />I joined because friends had joined. <br />Friends always. <br />Haunted by the poster saying, <br />'What did you do in the war dad'? <br /> <br />I survived the training, a young, well read <br />healthy man. <br />Sworn at and cursed by the old Boer war <br />Survivors. <br />Putting on the loose, ill fitting uniform <br />Like sheep. Docile sheep. <br />Trying to believe what I was doing was right. <br /> <br />When the fighting began, I was in a trench. <br />Stinking mud of bodies, faeces and rats. <br />The noise of the guns, thundering and scarring me. <br />So there is no sleep and I cannot think. <br /> <br />Whistles blowing, shouts of the officers <br />Making me mount the ladder and see <br />No-mans land for the first time. <br />Is this what I am fighting for? <br />Before I could think anymore, <br />A punch in the chest drops me to the <br />Dirt, soldiers treading on me. <br />I cannot breathe and I want to sleep. <br />I am far from home.<br /><br />willow moon pearce<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/lost-in-flanders-in-memory-of-my-grandfather/
