Je Touche Moi

Death passed me by,
but he touched my soul.

While his scythe of fiery lead,
cut a swathe through the pre-morn light.

Bony fingers plucked holes in mortal flesh.,
To quench the reaper’s thirst.

He passed me by,
This time.

Crossing Coronation Point an enemy machine gunner seemed to have a personal vendetta against me. Fortunately he missed.

Until

Until you have had the ground beneath your feet disappear.
Seen the sky turn black
and shower you with molten metal fragments.
You'll never know how precious the morning can be
for men at war.
I pray you never have to share the moment.


On warm dusky nights,

where now only the weeds stand guard
watched over by the same moon and stars
men once fought and died.

On ground scorched by fire,

grass now grows,
while in the silent moonlit nights
misty grey figures rise, ready for battle
carrying on a war long ended.

No rattling gun or scream of shells,
no cries from wounded or the dying.
The fit have gone home now.
The dead lie where they've fallen.


I've seen them