Sunday, November 6, 2011

In The Belly of the Beast

In The Belly of the Beast

God’s creation snuggles in a gelatinous embryo
The unborn soul as saintly as the fragile Padre Pio
Squirming and kicking to make its presence known
Unaware of the peripheral killing zone

A firm slap awakes a screaming baby boy
Parents aglow at the sight of their latest pooping tiny toy
Mucous and blood-stained is the tender flesh
The tiny birth symbolic of the first recorded holy “crèche”

Angrily the child wriggles to locate his mother’s breast
Father uncomfortably acknowledges the beginning of his sexual rest
Hospital diapers and a blanket encase the curious lad
All that remain are the loving arms of an impatiently happy dad

Years will turn this moment into a distant memory
Daily events will script the chapters of this lad’s poetic story
The pages of time have bound a gentle and handsome man
He the first son of daddy’s growing family clan

But what of the turmoil brewing in a far-off land
Country is heralding the curious to join the military band
The call to duty lures many an inquisitive youth
A loaded gun has transformed mister pimple to homicidal sleuth

Young flesh eager to depart without the someone they truly love
The minister’s altar foretells the horror yet undreamed of
Mother watches as father chokes back on every gallon tear
Every lonely second will turn each day into an ever-aching year

Upon a barren field our young man did find his glory
His blood and guts held together by a make-shift battlefield lorry
Cut short was the promise of a life-long feast
He had mistakenly found honour in the Belly of the Beast

There with his fallen comrades he now finds his rest
Tears flow as mother recalls her son fondling upon her breast
Diapers to body bags it does not make any sense
In which of God’s courtrooms can murder have a sane defence?

Thank you,
Joseph Pede

In memory of those who continue to die for a cause instigated by satanic cowards. We should not only remember, but we should seek to find the true cause of war. Unfortunately, we neither remember, nor understand a soldier’s true pain. They die on the battlefields, and those who return home remain tormented by a horror we fail to acknowledge. This footnote is for our newest war-mongering Neo-Conservative disciple. That would be you Mr. Harper.

Please take a moment to read my two previous Remembrance Day poems. "Brave Souls" and "Asking God Forgive Me Please". Both can be found in my September, "2010" Blog postings.

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