Sic transit gloria mundi

war memorial

The war memorial, bearing all the names
Of fallen heroes on its marble plates, stands
Guarded by its useless angel amidst the games
Of shrieking urchins. No more brass bands
Playing mournful dirges, no everlasting flames
Kept burning in their memory, no loving hands
To place a wreath of honour. Graffiti shames
And desecrates, ignoring the commands
To remember and respect young men who died
In agony and fear in foreign lands.
Mere lads. Mere lads the vandals too, who tried
To daub obscenities denying the demands
Of duty. Would they believe their death was justified
If they could feel their children’s scornful brands?

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4 thoughts on “Sic transit gloria mundi

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