Sonnet – The Deserter
Pity the soldier, broken and afraid Bowed head, his hollow eyes look to the ground He faces death now, lined up on parade His lips are moving but they make no sound.
Pity the soldiers in the firing squad Facing today their comrade and a friend They tremble too in dread and fear their God Their cold bloodied murder will be his end.
Twelve rifles lie in wait upon the ground They load the bullets; some are live, some blank. Now eyes blindfolded to the stake he’s bound His only crime was fear when terror had pulled rank. Frightened men must shoot an innocent man. To kill friends in war wasn’t in the plan.