war.

One can only imagine what it was like…

The booming thunder of distant bombs

Shaking the most solid of foundations

Until they were but rubble of the ground.

Families scattered and torn

With scarce knowledge concerning the endurance of loved ones.

Boys becoming men,

Still young and too innocent

Yet cradling a bullet firing gun and releasing grenades.

They were creating the bombs

They were the bringer of passing,

The witnesses of death.

They were very much afraid,

Muddy and clothed with the stench of trenches

Sick by cause of endless icy air

Shaking in anticipation of battle

With sweat covered brows

And cloudy minds.

Grieved by the lives they took,

The ones still to take,

The ones they had already lost.

Disaster and devastation befell all

Those blessed with distance from the terror

Still felt the sting of war’s horror

As they anxiously awaited sons, husbands, brothers, and fathers

Who kept no promise of return.

What could man do against such recklessness?

Recklessness created by man.

Why does man begin what every man longs to prevent?

The cloth clinging to a boy’s body

Stained with the red that was supposed to remain blue

Covering the flesh that was supposed to remain sealed.

And the life of that child

Precious and pure as it was

That life that was destined for death

Which should have thrived

But was stolen by an explosion.

The piercing scream of a mothers cry

With the discovery of death

Her child,

Her flesh,

Gone.

One can only imagine what it was like…

~ Bessie King ~