Charles J. Ingerson


Fought the battle
long past in time
but the memory fresh
still feel the line.

Were bodies found
in wire or dirt or air
my tears blurred all
as I returned there.

The holes of hiding
deep into the ground
listening to the shrill
of the artillery sound.

Long past when young
this was the place
I remember it well
with a different face.

Wonder if the children
know what we did here
or are they protected
in some distant sphere?

There are no footprints
no paths in the grass
just an emptiness felt
feeling broken glass.

Long past the day then
where we as boy began
only to end as men
wishing we had ran.

Now are the thoughts
returning daily fast
when we in war found
nothing is long past.