It takes you a piece at a time.
Each shell removes another thread.
Each "crump" unpicks another stitch
until the tapestry makes no sense.
Colours, noise, screams blur.
What had been a picture of youth
turns muddish grey, drained of life.
The banshee wails in your ear and
does not stop.
It - Does – Not – Stop.
Cover your head then.
Press yourself against the bank of slime
and pray whatever God you have to let you live.
Somewhere, two thousand yards ahead:
a gunner opens up the breach.
A brass case is ejected, and flies
steaming and smoking, on the pile.
What remains when the screaming is done?
A shell case.
Used up metal.
A soundless brass, forever - empty.
About the Creator
Sebastian Phillips
UK based writer and photographer, specialising in offbeat stories and obscure facts.
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