Mother, please don't cry for me

Mother, please don't cry for me, for I have gone
My pain's embrace has left, though you feel it still
Turn your anguish to joy, for I am at peace
In our trench's arms I lie; a sweet release

And softly the tender rain falls like blood
Upon our upturned faces that see no more
Lovingly sweeps the red mud from sightless eye
With purest tears wrought from God's own summer sky

And our trench fills with a profuse torrent then
Carries remains of its hopeless protection
Earthen walls, sandbags and bodies, everyone
Seeks to escape the carnage we have become

We're but empty vessels of our former selves
The flow that seeks to wash away our remains
Blushes as it turns an even redder hue
Shamed witness of those, who know not what they do

Mother, the foe were like us; all someone's child
No malice in their hearts; there was none in ours
Around their feet I beg you let no blame pool
Cheap were our brief lives; sent here by those who rule

We were as but leaves on a great tree grown old
But as the leaves fall, so shall the strong oak too
Weakened, helpless to stand against folly wind
Roots consumed from within by men who have sinned

Leaders who knew the cost in our blood and lives
At their spotless boots must all blame be now piled
Vain, they called the piper, but bade us pay the tune
In granite should their shame be forever hewn

So... to grave we go; I hope for the best cause
As symbols of the imprudence of conflict
Peacefully safe with our friends, our enemies, men, brave and true
War, that took so many...

... Begun, by so few...

Bob Lock

Poppy photo: