The Firing Squad walshpoems Lost in time his mother’s words, When but an arms-held boy, Remembered sweet her lullabies, That brought her infant joy. The years of boyhood, river stream, Wherever youth will pause to dream, To scribble down their true love’s verse, As posies fall from sweetheart’s purse. A heartfelt murmur, blessed was she, Her future looked so well, The heavens were on fire that night, As though the stars could tell. Could tell of what, my soldier man, Whose children now will mourn. A father, brother, mother’s son, His life will end at dawn. A child’s lament, a soldier’s son, His father now a man, Then as the sacraments were read, The words of prayer ran… They told of lullaby to tomb, The shuffled feet, he faced his doom, But soldier squad was pensive still, Obliged to swallow bitter pill. In the squad that cold grey morn’, One boy gave God his thanks, That he might be the chosen one, With rifle primed with blanks. Four letter word to life expire, Condemned to hear the order “FIRE!”It never came, for soldier friend, Of other flag to bring his end, Did drop his arm but tongue was still, That the condemned not feel the chill, Of final word on earth that night, Those sweetheart stars wept tears of light. .
Posted on: Fri, 21 Mar 2014 22:41:18 +0000
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