An event I attended as a London police officer.
The brown bark of an oak tree hid the intent,
Of gunman, gun, and their shared contempt.
A soldier home on leave had heard the gossip,
Of his wife now living as an immoral trollop.
Stinging, words of betrayal and love flown elsewhere.
No need for any secret document on which to swear.
Two barrels, two shells crashed through her head.
He just stood there, blaming the dead.
The forgotten child screamed in pain,
At his mother’s death and his father’s shame!
Tears fell on an unkind ground,
Silently running away without a caring sound.
No angels sang that day
Nor any amounts of “sorry!” made the memory vanish away.
Father in hell,
Son as well.
© 2015, Danny Kemp. All rights reserved.