The most grievous noise of war
is not the deafening roars of shells.
Nor is it the ghastly shriek of a flying warplane
Whistling above like Death herself.

Tragic cries of fallen soldiers, defeated,
Defeated, alas! Here, boys, here!
A bowing lad, his eyes writhing still
His hanging body, ardently decreeing his humility.

Lacerating bullets of enemies like claws sinking true
Entrails of hope pouring out in viscous insanity
Men shout, hapless to the kiss
Of the eventual metal that nuzzles into their hearts.

Ruthless effusions of mirth and cruelty
It is relentless, I comfort my men
Their pupils blown wide in delirious ecstasy
Again, and again, terror’s iron-cold grip never wavers.

The jackdaw cries, an angel weeps,
All the while I find a bone
Nothing I will say, and nothing I will do
When I see another gaping hole in my side.

A mountain of skeletons, a tidal wave of blood
These hands won’t be free of its eternal staining
Dropping to my knees before sin,
I ask for it to consume me.

My friend, what do you think
Is the worst sound of the war you ignore?
Perhaps listing guns, shells, screams you’ve never heard.
All ignorant insolence, prestigious lies.

It is the silence from power, the silence of grief.
Silence roaring in ears despite disquieted guns,
Gaping mouths once laughing, now silent.
Soft stirring of breath, now silent.

• Listing ID: 25259

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