Padre ( Anzac Day 2023)

Somewhere in the mud he saw the face,

Still, but shimmering in the dusk,

And from a place beyond the wire,

A rain of shells came down again,

Just as they had for days.

He stayed outside the dugout as they fell,

Ignored the calls of mates,

He knew the sounding pattern,

Could explain the ways

They would tear at earth

And render sky-blind.

As for the screams,

They mimicked men

No trace had left behind.

Again, a voice had called,

'Sir, come in.'

And he had faltered then,

Stuck between a vision

And the lives of men

Who were his calling -

Prayer in indecision.

The likeness fading,

He did go in, a hand,

Clutching a psalter.

'At the going down of the sun and in the morning,

We will remember them.'

Lest We Forget.