You Can't Kill the Dead [poem]

Since nobody will publish my sh*t I'm once again on here seeking validation! Would appreciate any thoughts on this one. Thanks!


You Can’t Kill the Dead

Those shaken patriots who, with bloodied bayonets
and battered bodies, could take no more, lay down
their arms, returning to wife, and mother, and child;
their medal a traitorous shot to the head;
they’re at peace with their choice, for they know that you
can’t kill the dead.

Those sleeping angels—weeping veterans of some
yet undreamt war—whom stray or unstray artillery
ended in a bloody mess of mortar, dust and fire;
tonight they rest well in their bed,
their dreams undisturbed; they don’t know, but you
can’t kill the dead.

Those haunted giants, whom trenchfoot and shellshock
had broken; who sought to end the sleepless nights
of hoots and whistles and booms; the visions of friends riddled with lead;
though they’re gone, they sleep easy now for they knew that you
can’t kill the dead.

Those fallen, who lie in wooden boxes marked with white marble stone;
withered flowers hanging limply; their epitaphs faded and stained.
Though the bombs may still fall—for their leaders mislead—
they remain undisturbed, and they show that you
can’t kill the dead.


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