death of an Englishman
decaying, the last child breathes in hollowed dust,
the death of an Englishman ripe within its tissue-paper mind,
yet to think freely, no new born deserves such malformation,
the Focke-Wulf rumbled overhead, waking a god so authoritarian
a million confessions couldn’t sway his aggression,
from land to cinder, cinder to ash, you’ll never be forgotten,
within arched soil you now rest
under the dead skin of the rose,
each petal a passenger of an uncertain wind,
once, beneath my feet, an Englishmen stood fighting,
through your death, honour and sacrifice
we give you our hearts and our lives,
Major, Lieutenant, Colonel, Cadet,
“lest we forget”
“we will never forget”
there are no hero’s left
anymore
No comments:
Post a Comment