A Day In The Life Of Siegfried Sassoon
Be Still, Child of my Mother
From the POV of a relative waiting at home.
Be still, child of my mother,
my tongue itches to tell you what the years and my eyes have taught me.
Our mother told me to tell you
of the day it took our father.
Breakfast was devilled eggs and Father had insisted Mother say grace that day
but the devil answered instead.
Be still, child of my mother
for the Lord did not bless us nor that day,
When Father was dragged off by the collar
to fight
for country, for glory, for annihilation.
Be still, child of my mother
and remember how you too would have been carted away
To fight a war you know nothing of its orchestration.
You were still, child of my mother
For you were not yet ten and eight.
You were still because you were not yet weened
so you were not snatched like our father was.
Be still, child of my mother,
even though you were born a man, death will not pick and choose by genitalia
So be still.
War drums and war cries only have melody in imagination
The stench of rotting bodies is its trophy.
Be still, child of my mother
For war is coming
as it always has.
The cold days are freezing and the hot days burn.
Be still, that war may not see you nor sniff out your shadow.
Remember that father returned in charred pieces.
Be still, child of my mother
So that your days might find the grace of longevity.
Admonish the world as I admonish you;
Tell the world to remember to be still,
So war does not send home her fathers, brothers, husbands, and sons in charred pieces.
For country, for glory, for obliteration!
This piece was written in response to ‘A Day in the Life of …’ — a series of photo prompt exercises by Susi Moore.
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