Tower and Town, November 2016

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Buried Like The Rest

I am a trench, dug out and supported, destroyed and rebuilt, used and… and then what? Now that it’s over: the war is over. What will become of me?

Thousands of soldiers used me and hid within me. I watched, helpless, as they were taken… I watched the bullets, the shells, the gas take them all. To where, I don’t know. But I hope that place is peaceful, somewhere without war and hatred. Somewhere safe.

The men with shovels come, and bury the taken. Burying with them the lies of a righteous war, one where to die for your country was ‘sweet’.

Dulce et decorum est ...

Was it sweet and right to lose an arm? Was it sweet and right to be picked by the rats? Was it sweet and right to choke on the bitter gas? No, no it was not. And now what for them? Left alone, left to rot, left to be hidden away, left to be forgotten. Buried.

Let’s go back, back to the beginning. The men, smiling, excited, blinded by fresh propaganda that foolishly led them to a fate worse than death, for the scars of war last forever. But they didn’t know that. They dug me out of the ground and got ready for battle. They loaded their guns and they put on their helmets. And that’s when the lightning came, explosions louder than the screams of the dying. And like rain drops, they pelted down into the mud. Where were their smiles now? Some ran, some hid; some, still blinded by the lie stayed put and held their ground. But all choices, all decisions led to pain and suffering.

The lucky few who lived will bear the curse of the deadly scars of war. Those scars will live with them forever, constantly taunting them, memories that will never fade. All were fooled by the lies of war.

Here we are now, back to the land of the forgotten. As I watch them I know...I know that soon… soon it will be my turn.

I will be buried like the rest.

Charlie Melbourne