Draft in the author’s style. This poem was written for Poet in the Battlefield to sit beside the author’s own readings, and is waiting for the author’s review. The commentary is a working draft too.
They came back from the far campaigns with the ashes on their coats,
And the medals dull with memory and the pride in their throats.
The young ones asked, what was it like? and the old guard looked away,
For the battles that they lived through had a price they could not say.
Yet in the evening, by the fire, they told of the brothers who had died,
Not of the glory or the gold, but of the laughter and the pride.
And the young ones listened, silent, and they learned the finest art,
That the bravest of the warriors are the ones with a tender heart.
Poet in the Battlefield · Hear it on the channel ↗
Commentary
Veterans often say little about the war they lived through. This eight-line epic listens to them at the fireside and finds that what they remember most is their friends.
The old guard returns “with the ashes on their coats” and “the medals dull with memory.” When the young ask “what was it like?” the veterans “looked away,” for the battles “had a price they could not say.”
By the fire they tell of “the brothers who had died,” “not of the glory or the gold, but of the laughter and the pride.” The young listen and learn “that the bravest of the warriors are the ones with a tender heart.”