Lest
We Forget
Abandoned houses long and forgotten, scattered
bricks memories lost and broken.
Blue birds cock their heads and sing, completely
oblivious to the terrible things this day will bring.
Crystal tears dripping one by one as you cling desperately
to your one and true love.
Dreams and prayers whispered in the dead of night,
hoping you’ll see his face just one last time.
Everything that you had once known, torn apart, disappeared
and fallen.
Forever waiting for good news or bad, numbly thinking
if your unborn child will ever have a dad.
Grieve and sadness paints people’s faces, devastation
and destruction destroying once happy places.
Hollering sirens high pitched and clear, sending
people flowing down towards the cellar stairs.
In the night the earth vibrates, tumbles and ripples
like a thousand snakes.
Jars of pity are stored in people’s minds, kept and
preserved over this terrible time.
Kept secrets and denial leads people astray, as a
distraught mother throws back her head and says “my son will come back! He
will, he will, he will.” But deep down she must know, that her son will never again
see the light of day.
Lullaby’s are sang softly to the whimpering child
for the fear of succumbing to fatigue and to the awaiting nightmares that thrash
and go wild.
Moments of their life flash in front of the
soldier’s eyes as they slump against the muddy bank and think this is the way
that I will die.
Numbness fills the little girls heart as she catches
a glimpse at the back end of the horse drawn dead person cart.
Old, dried blood haunts the streets, and the
unspoken concern as the first aid supply slowly depletes.
Poppies scatter all around, underneath the rows of
white crosses that align that ground.
Ripped hearts and vacant eyes, parent and child held
entwine.
Sorrow leeches into every crack and every wall,
licks the pavements and soaks into people’s souls.
Trust will gain its limits… and even the strongest
bonds will soon grow timid.
By Bryanna Lingley
