THE MARCHERS
Posted: Sun Apr 24, 2011 10:29 am
Had this one on the old site but thought it may be time to re-post it.
THE MARCHERS.
Each April I join my mates and we march along the street,
to the skirl of the pipes and tattoo of the drummer's beat,
but last year I couldn't make it; my health wouldn't let me go,
so I joined the throngs of people standing row on row,
but when I saw my old mob coming, marching eight abreast,
I regretted I wasn’t with them, although I'd tried my best.
It was then a boy beside me whispered to his dad,
"Daddy, why are these men marching? I thought that war was bad.
You have always taught me that war is a terrible crime,
but some of these men are smiling - like they're having a happy time.
How can they be so happy Dad, after all the things they did,
killing all those people, even the women and the kids?"
I felt my face turn ashen, but I stood and held my tongue,
waiting for the answer now so often given by the young,
for there are few who care for soldiers once the danger's past -
their service and their sacrifice - forgotten all too fast.
The boy's father stood and paused and thought for quite a while,
then the answer that he gave his son, gave me cause to smile.
He said, "Son, what I have taught you I believe to be true,
so for me to explain this now is really hard to do.
I think they could be smiling Son, to see their mates again,
or perhaps they might be smiling to hide from us their pain.
They could be smiling, because when they see young boys like you,
it reaffirms in their hearts why they did what they had to do.
As for them looking happy, well perhaps that's just a sign
they are glad they are not marching once again in battle line
and when this day is ended they'll be going home again
instead of marching off to war with all its death and pain.
Perhaps that's why they're smiling Son, I really do not know,
I was too young to go to war and I'm grateful it was so.”
It was then for just a moment I caught the father's eye
(and I hope he understood; 'twas the sunshine made me cry!)
I thought of the debt I owed him, I owe it still today,
though somehow I realized there was nothing more to say,
for the father's explanation had made it very plain:
sometimes the brightest, broadest smiles - disguise the deepest pain.
Vic Jefferies.
THE MARCHERS.
Each April I join my mates and we march along the street,
to the skirl of the pipes and tattoo of the drummer's beat,
but last year I couldn't make it; my health wouldn't let me go,
so I joined the throngs of people standing row on row,
but when I saw my old mob coming, marching eight abreast,
I regretted I wasn’t with them, although I'd tried my best.
It was then a boy beside me whispered to his dad,
"Daddy, why are these men marching? I thought that war was bad.
You have always taught me that war is a terrible crime,
but some of these men are smiling - like they're having a happy time.
How can they be so happy Dad, after all the things they did,
killing all those people, even the women and the kids?"
I felt my face turn ashen, but I stood and held my tongue,
waiting for the answer now so often given by the young,
for there are few who care for soldiers once the danger's past -
their service and their sacrifice - forgotten all too fast.
The boy's father stood and paused and thought for quite a while,
then the answer that he gave his son, gave me cause to smile.
He said, "Son, what I have taught you I believe to be true,
so for me to explain this now is really hard to do.
I think they could be smiling Son, to see their mates again,
or perhaps they might be smiling to hide from us their pain.
They could be smiling, because when they see young boys like you,
it reaffirms in their hearts why they did what they had to do.
As for them looking happy, well perhaps that's just a sign
they are glad they are not marching once again in battle line
and when this day is ended they'll be going home again
instead of marching off to war with all its death and pain.
Perhaps that's why they're smiling Son, I really do not know,
I was too young to go to war and I'm grateful it was so.”
It was then for just a moment I caught the father's eye
(and I hope he understood; 'twas the sunshine made me cry!)
I thought of the debt I owed him, I owe it still today,
though somehow I realized there was nothing more to say,
for the father's explanation had made it very plain:
sometimes the brightest, broadest smiles - disguise the deepest pain.
Vic Jefferies.