Tower and Town, November 2016

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Sentenced In 1914

The silence of our guns deafen those that listen,
but we can’t hide in the still forever,
We must fight this war, though our connections to it seem to sever,
The sun shines light over the darkness in which we cower,
Never sure if we’re more scared of the enemies
or the guns that give us power
I became a killer today, but I was sentenced in 1914

He stands beside me as he falls, and my heart falls with him to the mud,
I watch as he dies, amongst millions in a battle of blood,
It’s not our war, we lost sight of what we’re fighting for long ago,
Sometimes it doesn’t even matter to me just who’s friend and just who’s foe.
I lost my mind today, but I was sentenced in 1914

The coldness around me turned me numb to the core,
I’ve forgotten the cause to which I swore,
It’s not killing now, it’s just stealing breath,
This is the Great War, how else could it be?
I stole from them today, but I was sentenced in 1914

I saw the bullet fly, and I saw regret flicker over his face,
saw his heart clench,
His sad smile was the last thing I saw,
and it was as fake as our hatred for the men in the other trench.
My heart’s a ticking clock, but it’s a countdown
and I’ve run out of time,
The irony is as I lose my life, I find my mind;
death in war isn’t a crime.
I died today, but I was sentenced in 1914.

Caitlin Lowe