Arrows

Daybreak,
An isolated field,
Gorging itself on action,
The men led to their ends,
An unflattering fate.

The tears of the doomed men,
The sweat of their foreheads,
The determined endurance of them,
Was worthy of medal,
Sadly their commandants were miles away,
Polishing their bookcases.

Unaware of their men’s bravery,
They smile and take the credit,
Dismiss the battle as a laugh,
Place the controversy as experience,
And drink the blood of the tragic.

During war the men had tolerated fortitude, honour, and equality,
Afterwards they had to undergo much worse,
Callousness, indifference and hypocrisy:
None hurt more than the betrayal of their ‘superiors,’
It was worse than an arrow to the heart,
And it penetrated deeply.