Remembering ... my brother

© Marjorie H Morgan 2011

For M.G.R.

Remembering ... my brother

My brother was a soldier, he went to war.

He fought proudly for Queen and country.

My brother was a soldier.

His life was a war.

I remember

I used to pretend that

my brother was not a soldier

so I could sleep

at night.

Wars devastate

families

every day as

they bite and tear at hearts and

spit them out on barren ground.

War is hatred wrapped in metal.

War is a monster under the bed.

War is a thief ... of lives, dreams and a future.

I remember when my brother was a soldier.

The heavy

airmail letters bore whispers of hopes

as they thudded on the doormat.

The brief visits home held 

 unspoken dreams and fears distant

at the sharp point of the invisible bayonet -

all family eyes saw the pain

as he shone his

boots to remove the past.

There is no peace

when your brother is a soldier,

there is no peace

when familial familiarity shrivels

in the face of  unspoken horrors.

War diminishes lives.

Yet, I remember

that my brother was a soldier,

proud and strong,

loyal and true.

I remember

that my brother

always came back,

sometimes without his shadow ...

other brothers did not return.

Today, I remember

all the soldiers

who are my other brothers.

The brothers who are like moths

drawn to the flame of war

that scorches their souls,

that steals their eternal youth.

I remember.

© Marjorie H Morgan 2011