When Legions of Soldiers Homeward Come

 

When Legions of Soldiers Homeward Come

Each day, as the dead Russians return, each one having paid the cost,

To join the immortal soldiers, in the dishevelled ranks, of spirits lost.

With bloody uniforms, torn to tatters, gaping holes, worn-out boots,

The baton passed on, to unwilling replacements, bedraggled recruits.

To plug frontline gaps, where the dead soldiers’ dreams, have gone,

To walk in the muddy footprints, of the poor soldiers, who passed on.

To stand on their firing steps, in search of certain death, biding time,

Waiting for the hand of the reaper, to pluck their soul, from the line.

Time dragging, fear laced with dread, of a painful end, does not abate,

Haunted by awful thoughts, of the walking dead, in their morbid state.

Obsessed with the thought, of never seeing the sight, of home again,

Subjected to a mountain of stress, shellshock, sending them insane.

Bouts of anger that come and go, each battle raging on, in their head,

Wrestling with madness, wishing it over, that they could join the dead.

So tired, overwhelming fatigue, the luxury of sleep, a thing of the past,

No time to rest, each futile attempt interrupted, with another big blast.

Plodding, in rain laden trenches, marching in mud, the muffled sound,

Short of food and water, an utter state of fatigue, dragging them down.

In the world, out of kilter, the brain out of balance, covered in grime,

The clock counting down, the sand, in each glass, running out of time.

Soon another fresh batch, of black body bags, being lugged around,

Packed into meat laden lorries, grinding their way, homeward bound.

No welcome home, no tears of joy, no mothers’ hearts full of relief,

No good news, no victory parade, just another hole, to fill with grief.

Beside late brothers in arms, where the lost legions, of dead soldiers lie,

Putin’s regime still deaf, to heartrending calls, stop sending them to die!

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