While Poppies Begin To Bloom.
With cautious movements, I look over the mud wall,
No man’s land is peppered with bodies,
Lumps of what used to be people.
The grisly sight contrasting with the warm sunrise,
The dead bathed in a warm golden light.
I hear a lark begin its song,
It’s sweet melody heaven after the screaming shells.
I can feel the wet mud under my feet, the trench wall under my hands.
I shouldn’t be looking over the wall,
But I have to witness beauty just one last time if I am to die in this hell.
I can’t help but wonder who those bodies have left behind,
Wives widowed, children fatherless.
Why in this world has man turned against man?
Why are we slaughtering fathers and sons while they slaughter ours in return?
What has happened to this Garden of Eden God created?
Among the corpses, rats scurry,
Their bloated bodies everywhere.
But now, here in the golden sun,
With a larks voice caressing the air,
It is sad to think a morning this beautiful is going to begin another day of endless death.
But I still believe there is hope for us brutish humans,
Goodness can only spring from true evil after all,
Even here, in this screaming hell,
Blood red flowers blossom by the dead.
Flecks of colour in a perpetually black world.
A clear red,
So different from the murky crimson of blood.
So here, in hell,
Hope springs in the form of scarlet four petal flowers.
So I say farewell now,
As soon the shells will begin to scream and bodies will begin to hit the ground,
But while that’s happening,
Poppies will begin to bloom.
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