The Family – Bosnia 94-96 In Memory of these lovely people

The Family

It’s dark & silent on a starless night,

I can’t hear a sound, though try as I might,

a solitary moth feeds to the flame

as another patrol looms in this hollow game.

Our footsteps crunch on the gravel & sand,

as we find the family killed by “the man”.

He sent in his men to torture their souls,

destroy their being, their life, their whole,

their bodies splayed out, their blood up the walls,

showing their ending when his men came to call.

Mama lies curled up tightly down on the floor,

her daughter left hanging up on the door,

Gran she lies desecrated as they lost control,

& the men of the family prayed for their all,

but nothing could help them in their hour of need,

as the rebels they raped, tortured to bleed,

ending this family life as they knew it,

& trampling out history with each little bit,

a scene such as this one I’ll remember

as it’s etched on my heart within me forever,

I hope in their death they found some solace in peace,

as we buried the dead & their God will receive …

Humbled – Bosnia 94-96 In memory of lives lost

Humbled

The air is charged it goes higher and higher,

as the death toll rises with the sound of gunfire,

an alarm bell rings, a harbinger of death,

a family massacred left with no breath,

a child taken down, killed in her prime,

an unseen assassin not brought to time,

a door closed firmly, slammed in the face,

another mass grave, the holocaustal race,

yet onwards they go and wave as we pass,

a smile and a promise, a token at last.

These people they humble me deep down inside,

sharing their love with arms opened wide,

when only hours earlier their family laid dead,

taken down in execution, a gun to the head.

They know how hard their own lives can be,

yet they take the time to offer comfort to me,

& I cry in the darkness feeling their pain,

& another day dawns & it all starts again.

Patrol One – Bosnia 94-96 In memory of lives lost

I have written a few poems about my time in Bosnia during the reign of Slobodan Milosevic, I would like to share these with you…

Patrol One

As the sun slowly sinks down behind the hill,

not a sound murmurs as the night goes still,

the crunch of a pebble, the roll of a stone

the missing family in the empty home,

a voice cries out breaking the silence,

shouting in anger, deep with defiance

trauma & shadows float in the air,

yet the soldiers carry on and nobody cares.

Bullets fly, cutting the dark

lighting their way, creating a spark,

before reaching its target & losing its aim

another nights fighting this never ending game.

Ignited passions standing their ground,

as the patrol carries on not making a sound,

lives lost in battle needlessly slaughtered,

somebody’s son, somebody’s daughter,

another disaster waiting to happen,

as the world carries on its endless round pattern.