Poem 10

The Battle of Passchendaele

A fictitious account of a soldier fighting in Passchendaele during World War I

The trenches at Passchendaele in which we must dwell

Were filled with water stained with blood like fire from hell.

As we heard the distant monotone explosion of a shell,

The deaths of our fellow brothers and comrades befell.

Feasting on our bodies and our souls were the mice,

Staying relentlessly in our soiled hair were the lice.

The food provided for us would never ever suffice

The hunger, the thirst, the pain, and all of our sacrifice.

After the General shouted out his sharp command,

We all charged with rifles in hands towards No Man’s Land

Amid the storm and the quagmire that we could not stand.

We shall wholeheartedly guard and defend our motherland.

I felt my chest spiked by a bullet during the ruthless fight,

The blood that flowed out was foreboding in my sight.

I looked up at the menacingly cloudy sky with all I might

When I fell down and journeyed through to the distant light.