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Sunday 12 January 2014

A War Film - Teresa Hooley

I saw,
With a catch of breath and the heart’s uplifting,
Sorrow and pride,
The ‘week’s great draw’-
The Mon Retreat;
The ‘Old Contemptibles’ who fought, and died,
The horror, the anguish and the glory.

As in a dream,
Still hearing machine-guns rattle and shells scream,
I came out into the street.

When the day was done,
My little son
Wondered at bath-time why I kissed him som
Naked upon my knee
How could he know
The sudden terror that assaulted me?….
The body I had borne
Nine moons beneath my heart,
A part of me…..
If, someday
It should be taken away
To War. Tortured, Torn.
Slain.
Rotting in o Man’s Land, out in the rain –
My little son….

How should he know
Why I kissed and kissed and kissed him, crooning his name?
He though that I was daft.
He thought it was a game,
And laughed and laughed.
Teresa Hooley

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