Member-only story
The Post
Standing in No Man´s land, a charred post views our heroes.
The post stood alone, brittle, bereft of kindness, a peering eye.
Between the trenches it watched as man´s hubris sputtered by.
Raging courage, to quell the fears, it saw men blindly race to the fore,
Soon to be slaughtered with guts hanging in mud, terror turned inward with gore.
The post was merciless, strewn with wire, channelling a poisonous pain-filled parting,
At young men, with innocent loves tendered, who saw the light of life soon departing.
Posts, nought but wood, made a line, a christening, decorated with razor wire,
It tempted the few to glory and death, their bodies dashed, but their spirits flew higher.
There was no stopping the onslaught, the post saw them stagger forward, hope be damned.
There was no part for feigning, their hearts with shadowed courage were crammed.
Like ants, the bewildered post gazed as they raced blind into its home, No Man´s Land.
A home to agony, death, blood, and unimaginable brotherhood beyond reprimand.
Scattered around its base, arms, legs, guts and truth were hurled without doubt.