MEN WHO WEEP

Image by Dariusz Sankowski Captains of industry, senators, honourable gentlemen, Allow me to redefine terror, for you. Our troops out in the Middle East, on heat baked streets, fodder for friendly fire and suicide attacks. Should fear you more than the Syrian draped over the crumpled corpse of child or brother. Beating fists on cracked earth, crying and praying. Blood blotting through the faded cotton of his tunic. While you sleep in cool linen through clammy western nights. Expensive suits that do not crease contain you. Black gold oozes through your veins. So civilly regretful Anonymous, inscrutable. You terrify me. Kathryn Metcalfe has been published previously in anth

FLOWERS FOR HIS GRAVE

FLOWERS FOR HIS GRAVE by Lesley Traynor ‘Their flowers, the tenderness of patient minds’ Anthem for Doomed Youth, Wilfred Owen After he left with the thrum of war in his heart, it was planted. Before winter sent its tendrils, slender fingers drilled a path through blood red earth, dropped the seed into the unknown, hiding it from those who would steal its life. Each day she spoke to it of love, encouraged it to survive, prayed for roots to seek sanctuary, hold onto the tear sodden earth. Time was measured with caresses along green shoots, the swelling of her belly. Buds sought the growing light, turned to face south, opened to hear tender w

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