by Roberta Batorsky
 |
U.S. Army photo by Bernardo Fuller • Public domain |
In orderly formation
the parade’s vanguard
advances:
a scrawny teen carries
a flag depicting an empty bowl,
leads a battalion of stiffly marching,
starved children.
The main detachment
follows. These children,
missing various limbs,
some aided by crutches or
in wheelchairs sport head bandages,
slings, plaster casts or eye patches,
proceed down the fairway
in wobbly, uneven rows.
The rear guard, made up of
several pint-sized caskets,
is solemnly wheeled
past the reviewing station,
its tail end brought up
by a lone small girl
soulfully bugling “Taps.”
These casualties-
heart-rending results
of senseless war;
We must break ranks
with our generals,
blend into their procession,
embrace fully their humanity;
no other way.
Gone the sun
Thanks and praise
For our days
As we go
This we know
God is nigh
Roberta Batorsky is a Biology teacher, poet and freelance science writer. She has published poems in Fine-lines and Heron Clan and is working on her first poetry book. Her science blog is https://solipsistssoiree.
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