War

“War is hell”, the author says,

And with him I agree.

Homes are gone and families lost

The soil is scarred with fire.

The shells come down like a pounding rain,

My skull restrains a throbbing brain.

Behind me I see a woman die,

Beside me I hear a baby cry.

“War is Hell”

Bombs explode all around me, the pressure and sound

is intense.

The cordite smell, the acrid odor, the dirt and the dust

are too dense

I cough, I choke, I cry

And I ask myself – why?

“War is Hell.”

—Gerard Boe