Colin F. Jones

THE MISSING ELEMENT

I saw not God in my dank and dirty trench,
Nor in the fear filled eyes of a comrades gaze,
I gained no comfort from the slime and stench,
And nothing changed despite which God I praised.
No bullet spared the believers there, who prayed,
Nor restored sweet life to their pale grey eyes,
Where shells landed and where choppers sprayed,
Is where in hope the Christian soldiers died.
Life does not fit the dreams and hopeful thoughts,
We speculate as being what is real,
Belief gives false birth to assumptive rorts,
Which promise what it never can reveal.
For I found not in war the planter of its seed,
But men close bound that they might well succeed.