The day when 'they' killed 'them
It was the bloodiest day
in those long long years;
that day when ‘they’ killed ‘us’
who were the ‘they’ to them.
The next day we buried ours;
fearing as we turned the bodies
to see a known face: friend, relation.
But it was the boy.
His pockets, stuffed with leafy olive twigs;
as he went out to fight for freedom
freedom which did not ask his life.
I did not know that tears
could be so salty on the lips
beyond all bitterness.
*
[taken from a described true incident]
poem by Michael Shepherd
Added by Poetry Lover
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