The shadow of Cain (a reply to Edith Sitwell)
Man did not heed the cloud,
the cloud looking like the hand of man
and I saw lightning falling from the sky
and it was manmade,
thunder that exploded in flame
came down and down again
and in the dark clouds of death
the sun was blotted out
the bright cobalt sky was torn away
and men died as if being dolls made of clay
but on the hands of the living
the marks, the shadow of Cain remained
as killers of fellow men, slaughters in war
of a enemy
decided by politicians
whose hands were covered in blood
and these soldiers were young once,
only boys just out of school,
whose manhood, humanity had been stolen
and now were bomb happy
half crazy soldiers
who wanted nothing more than peace,
who needed tranquillity
and on their knees knelt to the living God
and sought his presence
while coming back from the bush,
from war, the fires of hell
begging forgiveness for taking killing shots,
for launching rockets, mortars
and throwing grenades to remain living
and was now torn in body and soul
and never complacent
offering their lives to the Greatest of generals
not knowing how to dispel
their own suffering, memories
and overpowering guilt
that made some weep
and they trusted
that the gates of hell
and eternal damnation
would be smothered, quenched
by the blood of the One
who died for all
knowing that He did not die in vain
and offering Him the pain,
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poem by Gert Strydom
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