SILENT TEARS
WENDY Sanderson, of Oswaldtwistle, sent us in her poem Silent Tears
When will you ever learn,
You men of so much greed.
The everlasting pain you bring,
To those who sowed the seed.
From their first living cry.
To snuffling for the breast.
No man, but, God on High,
Should sever that bequest.
From knee to grave, as in a rut
These young souls of our making,
Their faithful trust in us they put,
Every minute of their waking.
Then come the men of power and wealth,
Into our lives they forage.
With stirring words and deadly stealth,
Seeking youth of little knowledge.
Unworldly youths, these innocents,
Soak up the rebel rousing.
With shinning shilling, decadent,
A furore beyond dowsing.
From mother’s womb this child is torn,
As boy to man is made.
In uniform on a dark dawn
He joins in the parade.
His father knows of his fate,
Like countless ones before.
Yet man’s senseless greed and hate Repeats the blood and gore.
White headstones stand row on row,
Saluting these brave lads.
Parents grieve, for the seed they sowed
And the life they never had.
When the final bugle blew,
And silence fell around.
Did may learn, or just a few?
From silent tears, upon the ground.