To Carthage
then you came

and other fabled places

seen now only
through the lens
of War.

Here
you are
in simple black & white

playing football
with scrunched up rags

camouflage tanks
your only spectators

the horizon
a thin cruel line
of infinity.

Desert rats
the thing of history books
to come

now only
a bunch of laughing lads.

The desert
everywhere about you.

Young boys
pretending to be young men
pretending to be soldiers

and not
succeeding.

This
a game
played
for real.

War has made you
so.

I show you
you

again & again
wearing the many faces
that you were.

Death lurks
in every face

looks out of
your eyes

with the knowledge
that it could be

you now

you
this time.

Photos
taken then

Time
stopped still.

I see so many
bright eyed young man.

Their youth
their most notable feature.

“Dead...dead...dead! ”
you intone

in place of names

as if it hurt
to name them.

But I know
from other times

that this dead man
is John.

This one Fred
your best best friend.

Even now you talk of him
as if he could walk in the door

at any time.

The door
forever closed

The last photo
shows

an insect
crawling

in a dead
animal’s skull.

Dónall Dempsey

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-carthage-then-you-came-for-lyn/