tainted morning glory

The golden dawn burned
Behind the silhouette of the barren trees.
As the mist rose like prayers
To the ears of this creation.
Dissipating into the atmosphere
Of such beautiful surroundings.
I had just awoke to the reality of my disturbing future.

I had just turned 20 and was
In foreign land, but the scene
Made the moment familiar
And I thought of home.

The motorway behind the leafy green
Hedgerow, extended for eternity
And the last time I saw it it was illuminated
By cat’s eyes, plotting starry points
On a black earthy sky.

I was here at last, away from the
City which polluted my dreams
And cramped my mind,
Now I had freedom to express my liberty
And realise my potential.

My reflection remained still on the surface
Of the glass like lake, as the brilliant sun
Danced in the vision behind it.

I thought of England and our last embrace
Before I departed into the unknowingness
Of the call to bear arms for my Queen
And the country
That I longed for so passionately
But feared I would never see again.

Distress overtook me like
Replaying visions from a bad dream
Possessing my soul my faculties
Lay dead as on blood drenched fields
Which knew no name of glory.

Dying never seemed this difficult
As I reflected back on epics I had
Watched in my youth on our old
Black and white telly,
Or in novels just as dated, just as surreal.

I used to be gripped by the suspense
But devoid of empathy
As those gallant men lay dying in their trenches
Desensitised by the cinema graphic action
And the rousing charge of orchestral music.

Face glances create impressions on the mind
That only pain erases. And now in the grip
Of my own war all I could do was to look
Around and wait for the credits.

The disenfranchised men still huddled in their
Bivvies’ made me realise that this morning
Was different from all the rest,
And wondered if one day this scene
Would line the archives of wars in the bitter past.