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I cannot bear to watch this war,

as either side keep their morbid score.

We see the dead wrapped in cloth,

treated as little more than mere dross.

One by one they are laid to eternal rest,

each side by side in a line abreast.

Those who grieve cry and look to the sky,

and beseech God to tell them why.

No sound or voice is manifest,

as more bodies are laid to rest.

There are no victors in the landscape,

where the innocent suffer violence, horror and rape.

Why O why do we repeat this folly,

when nothing is gained by fruitless calamity?

◄ A Dense Fog

Right or Wrong ►


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Stephen Gospage

Sun 3rd Dec 2023 09:11

Another tough, but necessary, poem, Keith. You put your finger on the pointlessness, the tragedy, of it all.

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