In the Aftermath

 

In the Aftermath

As each battle takes charge, stripping goodness, and beauty away,

Good souls there torn, of their tender love, in the most brutal way.

Exposed to desolation, of distress stained, upon the baren ground,

Where once, nature unspoiled, used to frolic, with tenderness found.

Burned in the flames, of hell on earth, fragments inflamed, and raw,

The sockets accosted; unsightly visions imprinted on the face of war.

Fate fixed, in the wasteland, now wearing the scares, gouged deep,

While each wave of soldiers, moves forward, and lives come cheap.

Between each wave, a vacuum drawn, as the next wave is primed,

The munitions replenished, soldiers replaced, new orders assigned.

Amid each frightening attack, the aftermath beginning over again,

Counting the dreadful cost, resetting each badly shattered brain.

Clearing the dust, casting unwelcome debris away, grief must wait,

There is no time, there to abide in the past, no chance to hesitate.

No aching for, the way things were, before the cruel war came along,

Inverting all things good, burning and blistering, the world to wrong.

For now, it is, bury the dead, pay respect, on behalf of those bereft,

Put on another brave face, and forge on ahead, with what life is left.

Fleeting memories suppressed, all other thought vehemently blocked,

Minds stunned, and dazed, brains badly shaken, and heads halfcocked.

Caught in war, respite is short lived, as death indeed, pursues its prey,

Driven by the heartless thief, with more sorrow and pain, on its way.

Written By: Alan.Clark@WW1POET (April 2024)