The Battles They Face
By: Haley Prothero
Iraq
The Dead:
Washed marvellously with sorrow, swift to mirth.
The years had given them kindness. Dawn was theirs,
And sunset, and the colours of the earth.
Slumber and walking; loved; gone proudly friended;
Felt the quick stir of wonder; sat alone;
Touched flowers and furs and cheeks. All this is ended
There are waters blown by changing winds to laughter
And lit by the rich skies, all day. And after,
Frost, with a gesture, stays the waves that dance
And wandering loveliness. He leaves a white
Unbroken glory, a gathered radiance,
A width, a shinning peace, under the light.
World War One:
Gone, gone again,
May, June, July
And august gone,
Again gone by,
Not memorable
Save that i saw them go,
As past the empty quays
The rivers flow.
And now again.
In the harvest rain,
The Blenheim oranges
Fall grubby from the trees
As when I was young
And when the lost one was here
And when the war began
To turn young men to dung.
Look at the old house,
Outmoded, dignified,
Dark and untenanted,
With grass growing instead
Of the footsteps of life,
The friendliness, the strife;
In its beds have lain
Youth. love, age, and pain:
I am something like that;
Only i am not dead,
Still breathing and interested
In the house that is not dark:--
I am something like that:
Not one pane to reflect the sun,
For the schoolboys to throw at--
They have broken everyone.