Soldier Child: “A scream of poetic pain on hearing of the unnecessary death of the 77th Canadian soldier in Afghanistan.”

I was raised on a small farm

and led a simple life;

raised my wheat and

raised my beets

and led a simple life.


Kaiser Bill shed first blood.

I signed up for the fray;

dug my trench and

said my prayers

and lost my life away.


Our farm was gone by `33;

we moved to Calgary;

city bred

and city fed

the way it came to be.


Hitler was a bastard;

my country called on me;

went overseas

with knocking knees;

did what was asked of me.


We hit the beach at Dunkirk,

crawled up upon the shore;

cold and wet and

young and dumb,

I gave my life once more.


The world was laced in fear;

terror was its name.


I’ve got the jam

‘cause war’s a youngster’s game.


I was there but just a week

starting to catch my breath

when an IED

exploded me

and handed me my death.


And now I lay in the river bed;

catching cold, forever dead;

silent in the river bed.

Forever young in an oldsters grave

A soldier child in an old man’s grave.