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A Padre Weeps.
The road, tree lined, with grassy verge,
Dappled in sunkissed shadows,
A line of marching soldiers emerge,
Keeping to the road, avoiding the mined hedgerows.
Then the shooting started, machinegun, and mortar,
Tanks rumbled, with flaring gun turrets,
Adding to the two way slaughter,
Kill or be killed, time to show your merit.
Dead men on the sun dappled road,
Some dressed in Khaki, some in grey.
The fighting moves on soldiers marched or rode,
Scarcely looking, no time to kneel and pray.
Reinforcements rush up, a squadron of tanks,
Racing to catchh up to continue the fight,
They keep to the road, fearing the mines on the banks,
Leaving behind crushed bodies bathed in sunlight.
The Padre drives up, kneels to pray,
Reaches out, bare hands search through cloth and flesh,
Seeking their identity in his reverand way,
So that a mother, wife or lover,can be told he died today.
Now as I drive down busy roads and country lane,
I see many of natures' creatures cruelly slain,
I think of that Padre kneelin, with his tears flowing.
Dropping on crushed bodies, names unknown.
Dear Mr Lewis,
It is a pity that the war has begun and 8 British soldiers have fallen. Wars slaying human lives are useless. War against our natural enemies disease, decay befit us better than against our fellow beings. I feel sorry that forgotten cruel memories hurt you once more along with the present war. Let us pray in unison that the war ends soon.
Mr Lewis,
I recall my father speaking about WW2 many a night around the dinner table.. I know he use to have bad dreams sometimes.. I would cry at times to know my daddy hurt so because of something called war.. I know many men do have thoughts and dreams still of the horror it created.. My father had 10 heart attachs and died at the early age of 68.. I still say the war had alot to do with his heart condition and the stress it had on him.
This is a very heartfelt poem and sends chills down my spine... You are a wonderful writer...
Peace and Love to you
Judy