Even Praying. Poem by Jake Savage

Beneath the glaring, scaring clouds; raining.
The Germans and British, both paining.
On the frontline, stuck serving.
I was stuck saying; even praying.

In the Somme; a mate, a pal, a friend; gone,
A single blast, a sound, the shot of a gun.
Lifeless he stayed there laying.
I was stuck saying; even praying.

The long shrill whistle, rang through the air.
I could run away, I wouldn't care.
I found myself; climbing, leaping and swaying.
I was stuck saying; even praying.

In the Somme; a mate, a pal, a friend; gone.
A single blast, a sound, the shot of a gun.
Lifeless I stayed there laying.
I was stuck saying; even praying.

A bright light; the end of the tunnel.
Gone is the sound of exploding shrapnel.
The smell of bodies; the taste of fear.
Rough heavy jacket, no longer are these things near.

I was stuck saying; even praying.