Day 19: 19th April, 19th poem
AS it's FA cup semi-final weekend I thought I'd ponder on a famous football game of the past.
The Football Game
There was a lull in firing, acrid, bullet-mist - still floating.
Mud carpeted with thin evening frost,
And - carried sweetly on the air -bringing tears to weary men-
Singing- "Silent Night."
Bodies rise above trenches, stretch, hesitant ...nudge each other,
Slowly... warily... unbelieving- one step...then another -
Draw closer, sing in unison, meet in the middle,
"No man's land"
A ball, a game, a goal - or two, tentative camaraderie,
On sidelines two soldiers - opposing camps- smoke,
Share stories - wives, children, hobbies -
Walk together, relax in comfortable ditch,
Moments of quiet remembering - warm now
They drift into sleep-
Wake to the din of gunfire, the morning sky hidden behind
Smokescreen of war resuming.
German stands, takes a look - bang....
Shot down by his own, he falls , blood sprays like a garden sprinkler
English breathes tepid, red death - his "friend" crushes him in heavy embrace
Gently he places him by his side and prays, and prays,
Tears flow free , mix with life juice - there he waits.
Night comes, he says goodbye, creeps back to camp ,
Wipes sleeve across eyes answers his sergeant,
"German soldier got shot, fell on me, that's all."
Powerful description. This event that seems unfathomable a hundred years later has something to say about our current state of perpetual war and the identity we give to those on the other sides of borders or battle lines.
ReplyDeleteThanks for your comment D.A. Gray. I did try to find your name on your blog, but failed. So glad you like this poem . Hopefully I'll be able to continue till 30th April xx
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