A poem in the Terzanelle form
Across the trench, we looked into their eyes.
The bullets flew. We fought them, face to face.
Like us, they stared at death and became wise.
Here in this freezing mud – a horrid place,
the front lines of this vicious global war –
the bullets flew. We fought them face to face.
Yet one dark night along the corridor,
from weary voices Christmas carols rang.
From front lines of this vicious global war
this Christmas Eve, not only angels sang.
The guns fell quiet on this silent night.
From weary voices, Christmas carols rang.
A few courageous men halted the fight;
stepped into no-man’s-land to shake a hand
while guns fell quiet on this silent night.
As men, we chose to disobey command.
Across the trench, we looked into their eyes,
stepped into no-man’s-land to shake a hand.
Like us, they stared at death and became wise.
– Lisa
Selected from Smallest Leaf: A Collection of Poetry. Available for purchase at the online store of smallestleaf.com.
