I can see my reflection in the dead man’s eyes
Staring up, lifelessly, face fixed in surprise
Of a thousand dead soldiers, he is but one more
Is this all our generation is destined for?
I don’t know his name and I don’t know his rank
So he’ll rest in a grave with a cross that’s blank,
Among rows of young men who will meet the same fate,
Their identities lost amongst terror and hate.
He will never again see the land he defended,
His folks won’t be told that his life has been ended,
But those who are left will continue the fight
For our nameless companions and their miserable plight.
Lucy Moore
