Hear the cannons roar <br />across the battlefield <br />with its pits of pain <br />where the dead and dying lay. <br />In the no man’s land <br />that separates friend from foe. <br />Hear the mournful sounds <br />of weeping flesh <br />entangled within the baptism of death. <br />Across the battlefield <br />where there are fleeting ghosts <br />of those who fell on another day. <br />One day the guns may fall silent <br />and flowers will once again dance <br />with an evening breeze. <br />Instead of the blood of innocence <br />milking the no man’s ground. <br />Birds may again sing one day <br />replacing the agony of young men <br />dying before their time. <br />In twenty, fifty or a hundred years <br />they will be remembered <br />for the sacrifice they gave, <br />condemning themselves to an early grave. <br />Maybe when that day comes <br />no more cannons will again roar <br />across the battlefield <br />with its pits of pain. <br /> <br />19 May 2009<br /><br />David Harris<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/across-the-battlefield/
