A soldier dies.
Well,that is what they paid him for,
And if his life was brief, so what? – he knew the score.
I am no advocate of war; but men, it seems
Were born to fight and die.
What chance have you or I
To make them change?
Across the world, across the centuries
It’s been the same;
And men, for all their fine, enlightened talk
Still in their hearts perceive each war
As some stupendous game.
So it’s a game; then let them play.
There’s neither sense nor purpose in a shrine.
“A soldier died today…”
The headline said. Who cares
That he was mine?