poetry

As I Lay Here Dying

In memoriam of the ANZACs. May all the families and veterans who have felt war and its effects, find peace.

A hand attempts to hold clouds in the sky.
Photo by dap~ / Unsplash

I didn’t shoot but you shot first.

You sprinted to fix me though.  

-You tear my uniform,

attempt to resuscitate-

My brother of No Man’s Land,

someone claimed we’re enemies.

-I see you fix me,

but tears do more-

It’s not my white picket fence

as our countries dressed us.

-Hug me,

I forgive you-

We’re dirtbags, not heroes

further away from families.

-‘Enemy’

to brother.-

You hold me in the mud and wet,

my wife back home did too.

Lest We Forget.