The Military Garden Poem by Mark. A Heathcote

The Military Garden
Has me questioning
Is there any rest for the dead?
Does a military medal
Give true thanks to our crestfallen heroes.
Their gravestones stand on guard.
Even now, show forbearance.
Beyond all normal tolerances
It's remarkable how many there are.
Row upon row, row upon row,
In a banded uniform brotherhood
It has me questioning.
Is there any real rest for our war dead?
When they gave so much.
It feels like a chess game.
With no winning names
And 'checkmates' are everywhere.
Only the board is left.
When all the knights are tumbling
And all the pawns and bishops
Have been castled, and the queen-
Has relinquished her crown
Only the black and white board is left.
Like here in The Military Garden.
And a King of souls, turning your face a teary red.
Giving thanks to our crestfallen heroes
Now risen in the ranks of the dead.