Silent Fields

Gentle winds caress silent fields,
Fields of red reminders of what was
Back then.
Back when
Men sent boys to die
Men sent men to lie
Men sentenced mothers to cry
It was not always like this.
Do not be deceived by the tranquillity
One hundred years ago, these fields echoed
cracked, roared and tore.
Scenes of screams, the end of lives and dreams
the shutting out of sunbeams.
Flickering candles, barely lit.
Snuffed out.
Eerie, the breeze in this morning sun
A sun which can kiss us now.
Embrace the silence; there are
whispers from the past.
Ghosts of dark mornings, darker afternoons
and the darkest nights,
Sleepless, filled with nightmares lasting more nights.
What lies beneath silent fields
What grisly, skeletal, scarred reminders
of lambs sent bounding into grinders,
children in the hands of perverted minders.
Beneath the sheen of nature’s beauty,
The cratered face of man.
The cratered skulls of men,
Frozen in their final thoughts
The questions unformed on their lips;
the light behind their eyes eclipsed;
the fear-filled eyes; and on the breeze,
the echoes of unanswered pleas.
Tracks have been covered in the years since then
Petals bloom among the blades
Flowers grow in their beds.
We lost more than men
on this ground
We cry for more than flesh
in silent fields


About PS

English teacher in Shanghai.
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