A field of poppies

11th of the 11th

Old soldier’s tears silently fall
His suffering we must never ignore
He carries deep scars of atrocities past
Of sadly, a sometimes-forgotten war.

His hands now gnarled, misshapen
Decades past since he held a gun
Or tenderly cradled a dying friend
In foul trenches that saw no sun.

So, memories go down amidst poppies
Painfully laid by statue of stone
Where torn apart families remember
Their loved ones who never came home.

Shiny medals glint in the sunshine
Dignified silence of unspoken word
And thoughts of young soldiers still dying
As this world’s battle cries are still heard

Their hope that prayers will be answered
For a day when conflict will cease
Then we will honour the dead by our striving
For a legacy from their loss, to be peace.

© Elaine Coltham

Poppies image by Bart Ros / Unsplash