Cargo 200 - Special Delivery
Cargo 200 – Special Delivery
A run on the rouble in the Russian State Bank,
the Muscovites cursing the Brits and the Yanks,
the young mother fretting for her son in his tank
while the old man beside her his face has turned blank.
His i-phone appended to his hairy red ear
as she frowns and she strains in an effort to hear,
then watches his face morph from blankness to fear
and shake like an earthquake as he trembles in tears.
He stumbles by the wall as she recognised the phrase
that he mumbled from her own Army conscript days,
a blunt military code word - what an eloquent way
of telling a relative their son has passed away!
But its bigged up with a tribute, some flags and whistles too
for the Motherland is grateful for the sacrifice from you,
whose son the State honours with a kopek or two
victim of a conflict you’d never heard of too.
When the heavy zinc coffin is delivered to his door
the stricken old man will ask just what his son died for.
The captain will shrug his shoulders and say I know no more
but plonks the coffin down on a threadbare floor.
Then he slips a piece of paper in the old man’s hand
and says ring up these people they know and understand
what it’s like to lose a son in a far flung foreign land
The Committee of Soldiers Mothers refuses to disband.
They will help him in his quest to find out how and why
he never knew his son went off to foreign lands to die
for an autocratic government which obfuscates and lies
while Putin counts his matchsticks as men who flare and die.