poeticwisdom.com

Lest We Forget

Company Flags, dim in the mist
Polished medals, high on the breast
Words, words, cold as a tear
Bugle note, Last Post for the ear
Wreaths for the Then
Salutes for the Now
A volley of guns
Echo ours and the Huns
Remnants hid ‘neath a stone
At what price these few bones?

Did this Unknown Soldier “voluntarily” lay down his life?
No
Did he consciously volunteer to give his all for king and country?
No
Did he knowingly sacrifice himself to make the world a better place?
No
Did he agree to die so that the great and the good should be saved?
No
Did he offer his life in exchange for the survival of family and friends?
No
Did he die then so that good old England, cricket, beer and Eton, would not be lost?
No

What, then?

Didn’t he die because he was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time?
Yes
Didn’t he get forced into uniform through the genius of a dictatorial government?
Yes
Didn’t he obey orders from uncaring generals to run at hostile machine guns?
Yes
Didn’t he, in actual fact, want above all else to live?
Yes
Didn’t he get stripped of everything: home, family, career, life itself: everything?
Yes
Didn’t he become, in his last lucid moments, very, very angry?
Yes

Why, then, is there no anger in this memorial service?
Why is there no condemnation, no rage at the guilt of leaders?
Why was this soldier, billion-year miracle of human evolution, wasted without a thought?
And why are there now only gestures, platitudes, pomposity?