THIS GALLIPOLI

I dreamt last night,

Of cool grass between my toes,

Tender breeze playing upon my naked, clean, fresh body.

I breathed deeply and I smelt the familiar musk of her,

Mixed with the vague aroma of perfumed hair.

I felt gentle breath upon my neck,

Caress of soft skin upon my own.

I felt peace.

 

But dreams are short,

Sleep a too rare luxury,

Sounds of sickness and firearms roar,

Once again burst consciousness upon me,

Returned to me the stench of shit and sweat,

The acrid, sweetened ornament of rotting flesh.

With roughened fingers,

I rubbed remnants of precious rest from tight, sunburned eyes,

Parched tongue rasping,

Over cracked, weather starched lips.

 

I acceded to the hollow promises of my vacant canteen,

It tantalised with waters fragrance,

Yet refusing just one drop of respite.

Remembrance of yesterday’s ration,

Giving empty release.

 

I looked about me,

Sand, dirt, rock and arid earth,

These are my companions.

Spent cartridges of fellow men,

These are my comrades.

And death,

Sweet, longed for death,

He is now my closest neighbour.

 

I shake loose from dreams and wishes,

And enter realities nightmare,

This manmade perdition,

This Hell,

This Gallipoli.