Poetry

Like thunder and lightning striking in the dead of night
with it's bloody hand the arty came.
And as dawn's first light fell across the murdered land
we found our friends,
some of long and some of short duration,
all lay about in destruction.
The dead mourn those left behind for the broken hearts they endure
but also take comfort that their loved ones will never know the pain,  the utter horror that hides behind the words,
"Killed in Action".