The voice came

from somewhere

behind a curtain call

drawn by the closing

of a child’s eyes, dulled

in the hollow face upon

a soldier’s shoulders.

Muting memories to

make safe a

a thousand smiles

in a corner of a mind

marked homecoming.

Houselights recede and

footlights flash over

the percussive hush in

the Theatre of War.

The song came

from somewhere,

unfathomable,

choral yet crystalline,

heard but n’er seen,

rippling through the ranks

upon the pallid pout of

trembling lips and

unturned heads.

Strumming heartstrings

and steering strides

’cross crimson fields

clutching sweethearts,

kin and Country,

felled and fallen in

the Theatre of War.

Nicky Lloyd