That wasn't all she saw

That wasn't all she saw

She sees the Mongols on their monstrous rampage - 

a firestorm of blood through the streets of Beijing.

She tastes the wounds as the arrows bite deep 

in soft French flesh as they fall at Agincourt.

Her chest throbs to the thunder as the cannons proudly speak

from the English oak castles in Aboukir Bay.

She chokes on the taste of the musket's soft smoke,

standing shoulder to shoulder with the Emperor’s guard.

She hears the sharp crack of the ricochet above

as the Eagle is crushed under Wellington boot.

Entrenched then, her feet feel the hard bones beneath

as she wallows in the mud of Flanders' foreign fields.

She cries out -  speechless and silent;

unable to voice her despair for her fallen friends.

All this she saw on Oxfam's  bookshelves.




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