A little poem in honour of Remembrance Sunday, based on a letter from Wilfred Owen to his mother. This was actually supposed to be my sister’s homework but I got a bit carried away when I was ‘helping’ her.
My darling mother laboured to create a man,
But from this world, an angel will depart,
Donning a smile, with nerves in perfect order,
Prepared to rejoice in song with the larks.
Crimson christens the shoulder blades where wings will form,
My earthly functions are lost to the mud,
Shroud me with prayers; in darkness I will ascend,
Wearing a military cross, crusted with blood.
By Tyler Turner