Poetry

The loving Son

By 9th November 2009December 9th, 2019No Comments

‘There are no atheists in a foxhole…’

The desert nights could grow so cold.
By the River Helmand a prayer was said
Some water sprinkled on your head.
Though heart and soul you gave to Christ
You, too, would pay the soldier’s price.
Their happy smiles, an awkward wave
The barking dogs, the radio’s blaze…
Adjusted sights -the trigger pressed
You joined the Roll Call of the Dead.
By chance of fate, we all are blown
A loving son was coming home…
While the children, by the river played
Upon your grave fresh flowers were laid.

You were too worthy to have died
To be this gift of life denied.

Robert Carson

Author Robert Carson

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