Times of Trouble

 

In this time of remembrance.
Remembering the wars the battles the skirmishes;
the full horror only imagined.

 

From warm and comfortable chairs we gaze upon and wonder at the inhumanity.
We tut and huff and protest;
and then we put the kettle on, drink our tea put on a movie and forget.

 

Unable to cope with the reality, the horror, the injustice.
We cannot wear the woes of the world.
We cannot weep oceans; for oceans have been wept.

 

Burying deep the repulsion;
the fact that our young men have always been disposable to those in power.
Those who survive; remain neglected, silent, shocked, ruined.

 

And so behind closed doors,
where our own battles have to be fought,
our own wars waged, won and lost.
We hold a piece of those young men and women, a place of thanks, of sorrow, and once a year we take it out examine it, and face the horror. 

 

For those of us whose lives remain relatively untouched.
Wrapping those feelings carefully until  their annual outing is due is not too difficult.

For those whose lives are inextricably linked with the theatres of war.
There is no reprieve; no rest; no end.

 

© 2018 Taylor Crowshaw