War relics

I went to war with a platoon of men
When bullets flew,
They became like women in the trench, wearing pantaloons;
Men cried, then suddenly wilted, open-eyed;
Their remains were left in place,
under white crosses, in rows, neatly arranged;
Women made pilgrimages, told their husbands died of heroes' bravery,
So the nation could survive.
History today asks for more of them
to placate its empty pages
In the ink of their blood stains.

Reviews

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Wars are powerful rituals of our society. They change our lives and our nature. All good can be destroyed by violence and gore pictures in frames of bullet. You again show us what wars can do with us.