To Carthage
then you came
and other fabled places
seen now only
through the lens
of War.
Here
you are
in simple black & white
playing football
with scrunched up rags
camouflage tanks
your only spectators
the horizon
a thin cruel line
of infinity.
Desert rats
the thing of history books
to come
now only
a bunch of laughing lads.
The desert
everywhere about you.
Young boys
pretending to be young men
pretending to be soldiers
and not
succeeding.
This
a game
played
for real.
War has made you
so.
I show you
you
again & again
wearing the many faces
that you were.
Death lurks
in every face
looks out of
your eyes
with the knowledge
that it could be
you now
you
this time.
Photos
taken then
Time
stopped still.
I see so many
bright eyed young man.
Their youth
their most notable feature.
“Dead...dead...dead! ”
you intone
in place of names
as if it hurt
to name them.
But I know
from other times
that this dead man
is John.
This one Fred
your best best friend.
Even now you talk of him
as if he could walk in the door
at any time.
The door
forever closed
The last photo
shows
an insect
crawling
in a dead
animal’s skull.
Dónall Dempsey
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-carthage-then-you-came-for-lyn/
