Battlefield Poem by David Johnson

I fear the long and blackened night
I fear the fear in those in a battlefield fight
I fear that the general will advance the troops
and the hearts of the mothers at home
will ache and droop
I fear that for each blade of green grass
stained red
will mark the fallen and sacrificial dead
I fear that at home when a newspaper is read
by a young wife who thumbs through the
names of the fallen with dread
I fear that she'll stop at a name she knows well
and deny it with tears and deafening yells
I fear she'll be broken lost with pain
and bring steel edges to skin to open a vain
she'll lye on the floor in a blue dress
stained with tears
thinking of how she will live through the years
She sees the knife on the counter
but pauses to wipe tears from her eyes
then she remembers
she has something
growing inside.