“They went with songs to the battle, they were young,
Straight of limb, true of eye, steady and aglow.
They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted;
They fell with their faces to the foe.”— Laurence Binyon, “For the Fallen”
Lives are plucked like ripe apples from a tree
Dropping like the tears from lamenting stars
Just to placate death, to meet its quota.
Is that the expense for all to breathe free?
We who survive trudge with deep-seated scars.
But in this war, I may meet my coda.
Twilight bodies, neither dead nor alive—
Twitching and crawling like aimless insects.
Indeed, this is not a place for the frail.
This land is fed by those who give their lives
And blood to procure their country’s respect,
And advance it on an ascending trail.
Shadows deepen in this silhouette of hell,
Where bent beings surround the transitional
Like vultures eager to feast on raw souls.
May our death become a tale that will tell
Of a courage that’s unconditional.
We march in fear but war like immortals.
The featured image is courtesy of Emily Schultz via Unsplash. We are grateful for her generosity.
Rob Jones is a poet, musician, and two-time # 1 Amazon Bestselling author. His
literary accomplishments include two books of poetry, two children’s books, and
a new adult romance novel. He enjoys reading, working out, attending church,
and getting lost in a movie. If he is not writing books and performing music, you
can find him spending valuable time with his wife and family.
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