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Poetry from within
   

A Soldiers goodbye


Do not cry for me.

If you must, cry for those I left behind.

For I am a professional, and this is inherent in my profession.

I did what I did in the knowledge

That as I dealt it so it may be dealt.



And I did it in the company

Of the best human beings, I could have hoped to meet.

I was not a pressed man,

This was the life I chose and I have no regrets.



I’d prefer no maudlin sentiment

Silent homage if you must.

Rather remember me as you live your life

In peace and security.



Although again do not imagine

I saw myself as a sacrifice to some political creed

My comrades understand

I was part of the whole



And it will go on without me

As it has without so many others before me

We are all over the globe. In serried ranks,

Name somewhere we are there. Marked and unmarked.



My parents, wife and children sleep safely in their beds,

And incidentally so do yours

So do not cry for me

I was never so alive in my life before.



Perhaps more importantly

Is that from Basra to Helmand.

Normandy to the Arakan.

Ypres or the Marne.

Mafeking, or Omdurman.

Inkerman.

Waterloo.

Corruna or Plassy.



No matter how long ago. Whether clad in red or green.

I will be remembered by my own.

John Cox