Blood Brothers In Arms

 

My uncle Jack nearly died

in the battle of the Somme.

Crawling from his trench

he was the victim of the bomb

that threw him in the air

and killed his brother, Tom.

 

Deafened by the blast

and blinded by the mud

he lay upon the battlefield

drowning in his blood,

praying God would save him

as only his God could.

 

But the gods were looking elsewhere

and didn’t hear his cry,

so it was left to a soldier

to go out there and try

to save Jack where he lay wounded

waiting patiently to die.

 

Jack saw the muddied face

and heard the muffled tone

and he gripped the gloved hand

and with a wrenching moan

he was dragged from the shell hole

and would not, that day, die alone.

 

Six weeks in the hospital

and Jack was on his feet,

despite the shrapnel scars

he was so eager to meet

the soldier who had saved him

and thank him for the feat.

 

In walked private Khan

with cloth wrapped around his head

and the smile that Jack remembered

when he thought he was surely dead -

and though their skins were different colours

their wounds were both bright red.

 

Soldiers died upon the Somme

of every race and creed.

for Death does not distinguish

and War does not take heed

of the bigoted fallacy

that only white men bleed.

 

So when you see the racists

and hear the oft repeated lie

that only the English suffered

and only the English die -

remember that the poppy’s scarlet

and then remember why.