What Need I the Waving Flags
I watch these old men march
Berated and badged
as I was in years long gone.
Though I understand
and will honour their need.
I will never join them.
I need no marching or medals
to do honour to comrades dead
the metal would lie heavy
upon my aging chest.
I find no honour in gravestones
the faces in my memory
are still happy and young
I would rather they were here
growing old, honoured by
their children's children.
I need no military band.
I keep alive within my soul
the music of my comrades' songs
They are my morning reveille
and my twilights taps
What need I the waving flags
of these patronising politicians,
and hindsight's patriots
when these self same
cloaked in self interest,
barter and sell the peace
hard bought by young lives,
whilst their casual neglect
of our injured and our widows
do such dishonour to our dead.
What right have I of medals
For I am here, aging still.
I hold in trust the memories of
such youthful, selfless, sacrifice
their smiles will haunt me ever.
For as our young soldiers still do.
I have, in scaring gried, carried home,
brave men upon their shields.