Posthumous Limelight-Any Sad Poem
Posthumous Limelight
My boy, a young lad, died fighting the Iraq war.
It could be any war, could be my son,
Your son or anyone's son, what does it matter?
All wars are same, all sons are same.
A lot of decorum, a lot many bravery medals
Came posthumously.
His name was in the newspapers-
Photographs everywhere-
Interviews-cameras-speeches!
Stop! Why can't everyone stop this superfluity?
I didn't ask for it! When did he ask for martyrdom?
Or for posthumous limelight?
Or a monument in the heart of the city?
Why build it? For your fame? Or his memory?
Nations, why can't your red hot coal hearts
Promote peace? My boy won't come on holidays-
He is on a perennial holiday!
He lies deep down in the earth to be smothered
By the cruel, cold stone erected above his uniform
And he, my son, in his uniform,
Fought to save some adamant men.
I lost my boy! Do you have memories
Of him laughing with his tilted head?
No one to feel my pain!
No one to see the pillow of my heart
Soaking in bloody tears when his bullet rid body
Was honoured and saluted!
Your war is over and my arms are empty.
I live in this empty house full of his photographs.
My bonnie gave your vengeance peace.
Your ego is fluttering in your triumphant flag.
You have won the war and I have lost the war!
THIRD
October 25, 2015
Contest: Any Sad Poem
Sponsor: Broken Wings
Third-Promote peace not war
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