A Mother’s Last Dawn
I thought it a fitting time to submit this poem again with it being the 100th anniversary of the armistice of The Great War.
I can not begin to imagine the devastation left behind by that war.
While families were completely wiped out in many cases. This poem is to remember the soldiers shot at dawn for cowardice when they were actually suffering from PTSD or ‘shell shock’. Many of them were underage.
Lest We Forget.
A Mother’s Last Dawn
The cracking of gunshot fired at dawn
But no sound from the bugle for son’s final morn
The note in her hand she holds close to her heart
A boy’s hurried words of an adventure to start
Of travelling the world, of seeing such sights
Of friends to be made, of laughter filled nights
But reality was fear, and horror, and pain
Friends made were lost, sights invaded his brain
He sobbed in his sleep, ‘Please don’t make me go back.’
‘Get down on the floor, Mum. We’re under attack!’
Her soothing and hugs couldn’t stay falling tears
From this boy in her arms, far too old for his years
Every creak of a door, every window slammed shut
Saw him tremble with fear, his face marked with soot
He slept under the bed as she wept in a chair
‘He’s safe from harm now, he will not return there.’
But one day they came knocking; they dragged him away
‘Coward!’ ‘Deserter!’ She heard them all say
Doors closed in her face, all alone she did mourn
After the cracking of gunshot, fired at dawn
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