23 July 2015


Thousands lost
For no point or purpose,
Sent to death by pompous fools
Who thought themselves too important
And enlisted men expendable commodities,
A few yards of mud worth more than so many.

Each still corpse
A family ravaged,
A future dashed, and dreams undreamt . . .
Lost generations.

Each who survived
A family crippled,
A future blighted, A nightmare lived
For all his lifetime.

Remember those
Who gave their whole being
And think of all who may have been
Had they not died.

Think of conflict:
Weigh its inglorious cost
Against its gain
And find a better way.

Copyright © 2015 Desmond Hilary

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