WAR-TORN GAMES

poem by: Darryl Ashton
Written on Oct 04, 2017

I started pitying myself,
For what I had to endure.
Now growing old, I could
not do,
The tasks I could before.

But in the morning paper,
I read of others' pain,
Which made me stop
self-pitying,
And made me look again.

It showed young men
and women,
Who were far worse off
than me.
Whose lives and limbs
were torn apart,
By acts of butchery.

One moment fit and
active,
The next a nightmare
scene.
Barbaric acts by fellow
men,
Destroyed what might
have been.

Young men and women
shattered,
In what had passed for
war
By bomb-blast or by 
rifle-shot,
Some tapped upon death's
door.

What many take for
granted,
Those brave souls lost
for good.
They went where others
dare not tread,
The toll paid in their
blood.

The months of pain
and treatment,
Their fear of life ahead.
We all could see the
torment,
And felt the tears they
shed.

And yet as they were
lying there,
A spark of spirit showed.
It would not die, it led
the way,
Along that oft-dark road.

They would not give in
easily,
To doubts, to fear, to
pain - 
They took a giant leap
of faith,
They learned to live 
again.

As we, the many, looked
in awe,
And cheered at courage
shown,
Applauded each as
champions,
Hewn by their strength 
alone.

So do not wonder, never
doubt,
Take heed when man
proclaims,
Those brave hearts were
the winners all,
In these war-torn games.

BY
DARRYL ASHTON   

 

Tags: Faith,

Add Comment


Cecilia Crasto commented on Oct 05, 2017 at 6:23am
You paint a grim picture Darryl, but it is reality in the light of what is happening in the world today, powerfully penned and a great read.

 

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