Whispers of Mortality

Dulce et decorum, the old man sneers in my ear
As I sit waiting at my window for the rain to stop:
She will not come today either.

Their faces stare soot-blackened with fear,
Asking when the next war will start and where,
So they can get out of miserable here.
A few quivering cigarettes in cupped, corroded palms
Trying to light themselves afire - we are all friends here.
That, there, was a school we all went to when we had the mind to -
Now we need to, each day.
Metal flying wheezes like an old consumptive.
I have never seen you alone, they say to me,
Where is your brother, your friend?

The bus stops every other mile and people get on
Walking on stilts, sweating happiness that makes him retch.
They stare politely at the withered stump and shake heads.
Jingle bells, jingle bells, he begins to hum, offending,
And they move off without shaking his disgusting hand.
The ruins are colourful today, he muses,
The sun becomes here; ours was a darker land.
Mother, mother, he cries, why did you bother?
They wouldn't let me play at pitch and toss again.
Head unbowed, bloody fool, go to your brother -
He will laugh heartily at your pain.
When the dust clears, he gets down in the middle of somewhere
Waiting for the doves to fly away before he can limp slowly home.

When proud man stoops to charity,
He mouths some utter inanity,
And sneaks away before his thanks
Can soil his wounded humanity.
Gun to temple, he blows to bits his pride,
And crawls back home simpering,
Happy to have lost the infernal hide
That kept him man from winter to spring.

Amor vincit omnia, he cries in my deaf ear
As I lie waiting in my bed for the darkness to lift:
She will not come tonight either.