Normandy
tear free a hole
in the sky
pour out your blood
in the sand
on the beach,
the souls of men
stepped aside–
hiding amongst
the torn bodies
bruised and bandaged
splinted and tourniqueted
walkers and riders–
come one, come all
war changes a man
never again, a boy–
an innocent
fear fills the void
where hope
once lived
friends arrive
together
but depart
in different
ways
fuck words
fuck poetry
it is the grit
and grime
of blood,
of bone,
gun oil,
and brains–
laid out like
a blood offering
for a hateful
god–
that is what is real
fuck your stories
your anniversary remembrances
the truth was laid bare
for a small moment
on a beach in France
and it ain’t pretty
no way, no how
the truth reflected back
at the few left living
from the bulging eyes
of the recently dead.
2 thoughts on "Normandy"
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We are so far removed from the D-Day slaughter that helped burn out Ernie Pyle’s view of war. My father and uncles and older cousins were not–were scarred throughout their lives. You did a great write, Laura…
Amen, and thank you, mtpoet!