Glorious Dead

Jack – Our Jack

 

What’s glorious about his body being scattered?
His blood spattered across his mates?
About staring where his legs used to be?
Watching the heat of his life enriching the mud?

What’s glorious about trying to stuff his intestine
back through the gash from whence it spilled?
At the end, as he cries for his mother,
where is the glory?

Who flatters this crime?

 

I read about a farmer’s wife
Three children
Crops in the field

Her house burned-down
Fields abandoned
Husband abducted or dead

Refugees in a foreign land
Crammed amongst filth and disease

Hungry

 

Who gains from their suffering?
Who owns these wars?

 

Where is the glory?