Normandy, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz
Through my aged falling tears I see but blurs,
While the changing soft June wind comes my way,
Carrying scents from the many acres,
Where friend and stranger will forever stay.
Cleared eyes I sit silent upon a knoll,
Dramatically it changes my view,
While a feeling makes memories unroll,
Of this immortal place many fought through.
In the years passed this was a sea of wire,
On the ground were paths of quivering red,
Did the best they could, crawled to the hellfire
Hot lead causing crying pain as they bled.
At night phosphorous flares filled the black air,
Creating ghost-like figures on the ground.
Bullet tracers were for more than to scare,
Accuracy of a hit with next round.
Smoke denser than ocean fog makes them choke,
Trying to advance in this unknown land
Falling with pain the Lord’s name they invoke.
Gnashing teeth trying the pain to withstand.
In the darkness sounds of pain continue.
Through the damp sleepless night screams diminished.
At day break hallow sounds find their way through.
For them, agony of war now finished.
Their death cries I hear even to this day,
The scent of death unable to escape.
Oh how was it I did not have to stay,
Being a part of this solemn landscape.