We were children
Playing at war with wooden spoons
Our mother’s pots as helmets
Laughing and screaming
Falling down on the green, green grass
Tongues lolling out
Eyes rolled back
Then we would leap to our feet
A different character
Come back to life
And we won prizes
Came back glorified
Then you’d run home
And we’d go in for dinner
Mother scolds us
The spoons and pots are dirty and dented
More dishes for her
And life goes on
We play again tomorrow
Then grown into our father’s clothes
We don uniforms
Take weapons
We play at war
Show off and strut
It is oh so patriotic
Don’t you think?
We have real helmets
We can do real damage
But we are still invincible
Still a children’s game
If I knock you down on the field
You will only lie dead for a moment
Before springing back to life
Before running home for dinner
But it’s been so long since home meant mothers and dinner
Been so long since that fantasy
Died
I think the moment it evaporated
Was when you fell into the trench beside me
And you didn't say a word
Your eyes no longer saw me
And your blood was on my face
And they said to leave you
There was nothing for you now
Death became an old friend
I waited for him
Inevitable
His cold blade always at my throat
And his hands holding, freezing my heart
I didn't cry
Because I had to make it out for you
I had to go home and tell your mother
That you would not be home for dinner
We learned war was so much harder than any game
That the rules are always changing
And mistakes will end in death
Even the right decisions will end in death
Death
War
A game that fights you back
And I made it home
I gained a limp
They gave me a medal
Like our games so many years before
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem