Red Glare

The children were led,
on a bright summer day,
to the front of the school to sing.

The flag had been raised and voices were raised
in gleeful adulation.
The children then learned it took courage to turn
a village into a nation.

And the years, they were long.
Now, just snatches of song
haunt the children, now men,
in the place they were sent
to burn.

Stern was the glare of the men as they stared
at the village in conflagration,
at the bodies of strangers who could not be spared;
a danger they were to our nation.

And the rocket's red glare,
the bombs bursting in air,
gave proof through the night
that our flag was still there.

The clouds of smoke from the barbecue fire
provide, from the glare of the sun,
some relief.
The old soldier stared at his plate, now bare,
and tried to shake his grief.

As the clouds shield eyes from sun,
So do lies shield minds from truth.
But to ears that hear cries in the burning
no help can be found by turning
to the lies in the songs of youth.