Her Sentinel Solemnly Kept

 

Her Sentinel Solemnly Kept

Each day the mother in black, stands there, in eternal sorrow fraught,

In the field of misery, from the crack of dawn, till the day is wrought.

Standing over the infant graves, in all weather, rugged and forlorn,

Keeping a constant visual, over each misfortunate child, she mourns.

Her heart gouging at the ground, her head bent over, lost in despair,

Repeating her sad lament, crying into the ground, her solemn prayers.

Caught in the haze, the cloud of perpetual grief, the awful place of pain,

Suspended in the never-ending flow, each day, crying down every name.

Solemnly she empties her heart, over and over, the flood never runs dry,

Her soul consumed in emptiness, as tears are wrenched, from her eyes.

The weight that wears down, upon her mind, an unwelcome marathon,

Time has no limits; the eternal flames of discontent, burning brightly on.

Each fresh grave, yet another young life lost, another poor family torn,

Another beloved child wasted, victim of war, another lost soul to mourn.

Damn the evil ones, who would cover the earth, in other people’s blood,

The heartless monsters, who ruthlessly suck the sap, from the tender bud.

The generals who call the shots, in their tin medals, with a glint of gold,

Far from the trenches, and no-mans-land, the poor souls they have sold.

They have no idea of misery, the anguish, and despair, that they cause,

The agony, and distress, the burden of grief, triggered by wicked wars.

Blind to the awful crimes, that they commit, the toddlers that they take,

The mindless waste of decent lives, the innocent victims, in their wake.

The vacuum death leaves behind, the burning pain, brought by sorrow,

All the potential, that they have stolen away, time without tomorrow.

While the mother of misery, remains powerless, under the morbid spell,

Unable to lift the veil of death, upon the graves, where the children dwell.

Written By: Alan.Clark@WW1POET (July 2023)