Inkwell
WW1 Poem or Letters from My Sons Rebecca A. Dolin, Grade 10
I get these letters from my sons, letting me know they are okay. I hear from them not often, as they are so far away. No news is bad news, as if they were alive they could write, Maybe the letters were lost, always look for the light. The light in the dark is where you would go, Write them saying you miss them, just don’t let them know, Their father has died in battle, Their sisters cry for their rattles, Everything is lost, even the cattle. Stories of war, the trenches and all My prayers go to my sons, may they not fall They didn’t start this war, but they will finish it They will protect their home, won’t falter or quit. They are strong young men, my sons Still young enough that they aren’t as big as their guns Drafted as teenagers, not even done with school Living in the trenches, more like a cesspool. They have new weapons, new ways for them to die, Gas that kills, planes that fly They fly in circles watching my boys All of these advancements, horrors in disguise They are getting creative, new tanks and new gas New tactics meant to kill the mass My sons may die, and that has to be okay, They have orders they cannot disobey They are fighting for my freedom, and I miss them so Every morning they are not here, my heart takes a blow.
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