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DOWN A COUNTRY LANE TO WAR

In these my precious middle years, the truth is hard to grasp,

I hide from pain and future tears, by dwelling in the past,

And misty dreams of yesterday, call out to me once more,

To walk again that mottled way, down a country lane to war.

Poor in all but hope and courage, in a world that seemed so wide,

Where we fought as one to salvage, broken dreams as mother cried.

Warm days of love and laughter, when hearts and minds were raw,

Gave me strength for what came after, down a country lane to war.

Lost carefree days of childhood bliss, too sheltered to be sad,

For things unknown we do not miss, no gauge of good or bad,

Those simple days alas are gone, now manhood’s calls implore,

And solemn voices call me on, down a country lane to war.

A child and now too soon a man, life’s lesson’s harsh and stark;

It’s time to face some master plan, go forth and make my mark.

But future’s path lies veiled in dread, that chills me to the core,

I heed the call with timid tread, down a country lane to war.

The steaming jungle blocks the sky, endless twilight in the gloom,

Men who’ve not lived and yet they die, in silence to their doom.

Sun drenched day and moonlit night, will comfort me no more:

I fight to live and live to fight, down a country lane to war.

Sweat soaked day and sleepless night, the scent of blood and fear,

No question now of wrong or right, as death and pain draw near.

Our blood with theirs a river free, through stagnant jungle floor,

I curse the dreams that called me, down a country lane to war.

Those hungry days of bitter youth have passed almost from view;

And soldier’s hearts that yearned for truth, with years fall silent too.

And time is unforgiving; it won’t heal the festering sore;

That has grown from years of living, down a country lane to war.

Bitter past provides no reasons, and bleak future pays no due,

As I face the waiting seasons, life’s remains are calling through.

Must I harbour sad obsessions, from the days that went before?

While I search for painful lessons, down a country lane to war.

In these my precious middle years, the truth dawns clear at last,

I’ll turn away from pointless tears, draw lessons from the past,

And the misty dreams of yesterday, will guide me as before,

To hold the truths that came my way, down a country lane to war.

⎡ Gary Blinco – June 2000