A bayoneted rifle stuck in the ground
with a soldier’s helmet on it
lies as a marker for a solder buried there
in the haste of battle.
No more will he see the joy again
within his loved ones eyes.
No more will he feel the tears on his cheeks
as they leak down from his eyes.
His is just a lonely grave
that is crying out for a name
like hundreds there with just a rife as a marker.
At home, and mothers weep for their lost sons
who fell before their time
leaving their ghost to roam
across a soon forgotten battlegrounds.
The grave will lay unattended
all the time fighting prevails.
Only a rifle stuck in the ground
will tell all someone is lying there.
The nameless soldier
whose flesh had been torn to shreds
lies silent and at peace
in a land far from his home.
22 May 2009