Reflections on War

Lloyd George, Clemenceau and Wilson arrive at Versailles for negotiations.
The British War Graves Cemetery at Seraucourt Le Grand, near the River Somme.

Thoughts on the Somme.

Their youth their passion their dreams are gone
But dream of them when nights are long

Illuminated by a single flare
Catatonic in the glare

Rows of childlike ceramic faces
Ten years from learning to tie their laces

Hardly knowing right from wrong
Slaughtered like sheep along the Somme.

War.

War is the ultimate manipulation
pit a Nation against a Nation
and destroy for an idea
all that humanity holds as dear

War is hypocrisy on the march
from safe retreats Politicians watch
good family men kill good family men
and the church sanctions them

War is the Dictator's Cry
inflamed by democratic arms supply
who let the dogs of War devour
to further the aims of corporate power

War is the genocide of youth
for a lie uniformed as truth
and all the pomp and pride and bravery
have their root in human savagery.

Excavation.

Mass Graves
of young men killed
in some long forgotten war
by some long forgotten authority
for some long forgotten reason

Are these the bones
of brave young men
are these of cowards
who ran away
are these of families
caught in the vengeance
of the blood lust day

The victorious
the vanquished
they are all gone now
And somewhere
a young Mother
holds her baby to her breast
and a Father's heart swells
with grateful joy
and adoring pride.