The ghosts of downed aeroplanes fly hell-for-leather over rooftops that war has long forgotten to bomb.
Not built by need but by the handshakes under negotiating tables of political expediency.
These fallen soldiers can’t tell you their life stories all packaged, marketed and mended over to exclude all but that which suits sombre digestion at memorial services.
Not for them the adopted poetic contortions of political expediency.
They are stardust, they are cannon-fodder; they are the children of your sons and daughters; they are moulded by the machinations of political expediency.
Not built by need but by the handshakes under negotiating tables of political expediency.
These fallen soldiers can’t tell you their life stories all packaged, marketed and mended over to exclude all but that which suits sombre digestion at memorial services.
Not for them the adopted poetic contortions of political expediency.
They are stardust, they are cannon-fodder; they are the children of your sons and daughters; they are moulded by the machinations of political expediency.
2 comments:
gorgeous and haunting and dead on. the politics of expediency. the unforgivable losses.
"unforgivable losses" aye! and even more unforgivable exploitation of those lost, both then and now.
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