Someone's

Not a leaf left on the branches
scarcely a tree left vertical in witness.
This once peace-time green, luscious grass
long left brown flattened underfoot.

Of field tents and battalions with men heaped
upon heap, left
clustered where they fell – no movement
outside
the ever-growing numbers of rats
shaping their nests among their lifeless
decomposing bodies

Someone’s son, brother, husband father assembling
of appearance, no more mustering of arms.
We sent them in their droves to foreign acreage
now all of battle-weary, are they.

Long, long their voices left unheard
in the distant void of duty calls.
Would we think them feeble
if they took fright about their untimely death?

Who would dare to utter
of brave men crying, in their sleep...