Poetry

THE TRENCH

By 21st December 2007December 9th, 2019No Comments

Alone I stand nothing to do but stare
At this barren land laid so bare.
Splintered trees lean over squalid trenches
Shadows of their former selves – the proud orchards
That covered this once beautiful rolling land.
Nervous eyes peer over muddy mounds
Listening and waiting – praying – “no more, please, God”.
I will go mad all alone – no friends for comfort.

The long dash I will not make
Our lines too far to reach.
I think a German bullet lies in wait
To cross these sodden trenches
And it surely has my name on.
My trench will be my refuge
My safe, lonely place to hide,
Among the rats and my friends the fallen
Down by my side.

The air is still and oh so heavy!
No-one dares to use their eyes
To see such horror on both sides.
Desolate land strewn with dead,
Craters, horses and shattered trees
And now it is so quiet- no sound is made
Am I really all alone? Dare I look?
Trust my God what to do.

Hugging my rifle I stand and stare
Wondering what will be.
The puddles – lakes of tears never drying,
Reflecting the greyness of the day.
The rippling water shows the face of a friend
Who is not really there?
“Have courage,” he whispers softly
Giving me the strength to wait for what will be
Life or eternity.

Andy Cook

Author Andy Cook

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