Gill Eastwood

Under rug swept

Pitched battles and wars waged, under rug swept
of pride in country and mothers bereft
under the flag of truce once the soldiers have left
I watched you stumble and falter, watched as you wept
pitched battles and wars waged, under rug swept.

Bloodshed on hold, brothers under the skin
you look around in horror and mourn within
at the destruction and horror and wages of sin
at the phantom limb memories of places so grim.

Pitched battles and wars waged, under rug swept
forgotten, passed over, through the world you  have crept
a country moved on, no longer in your debt
other people’s secrets and lies you have kept
pitched battles and wars waged, under rug swept.

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