He stands to look over the trenches

The cold, black trenches, filled with death and destruction

Perhaps there is hate in his eyes, a longing for peace, all

I see is danger, as the mists rise.

‘Get down!’ I shout, ‘Why risk your life?’

He turns to me, with one cold stare.

‘Do you disturb the peace’, he says

It is too late. He falls and dies.

With one explosion, he is gone, and who will grieve for him?

Think! Where will be go, now he is gone?

There is no heaven here. And when I go, I go alone,

For we all tread as one. What use is this to anyone,

When everything is gone?

28/3/90