My Battlefeild Behind the Glass

My Battlefield Behind the Glass.

Lace still undone since we came back,
the dust falls slowly from open boot.
He can be untidy at best .        Mother..

No rat would turn to save another,
for wife, child, sister or brother.
Not for him the hero’s name,
It’s life for him forget the fame.
No gallant song in his name sung,
around his neck no medals hung.

What wrong did I to live this day,
adrenalin kicked in at last for me.
Blast after bloody blast I hear,
sweet air we breath it is not free.

Why fight for an earth we already rule,
no ones given permit to rise above.
To own some blackened stone or oily pool,
I will choose you for my embattled love.

No Socratic journalistic scholars here,
hatred and feigned bravery that stalks.
What soldier would not shed a tear,
then start urgently the manful talks.
Trying ever harder to find the peace.

Denied the strongest persuasive lines,
that actor could sell to a nation.
Ruler fails all parts strangely and declines,
lawyers fight above their station.
Wallets bulging at trouser crease.

If lasting memory must be found,
let it be known this day.
I truly owned this piece of ground…