In The Trenches

The day became a wall of noise and fear
as death drew ever-closer hour on hour;
fear of cowardice turned his belly sour
and haunted eyes squeezed out a salty tear.
Bullets flew and whizzed past this young man’s head,
entrails loosened, as he longed to cower
inside himself, instead found the power
to fight back, through mud and slime bloodied red
with the brains of comrades he had slept by.
He fought to keep his meagre breakfast down,
scrambling over the top with dignity;
knowing deep within he would surely die
upon this piece of scarred earth, reddish brown,
yet never knowing of his victory.