Hero’s Return – a sonnet:

We count the body-bags as they come home,
And grieving widows face new poverty,
After the corpse is shuffled to his tomb,
And she becomes a liability.
The army give her a support package,
But they leave home, school, their locality,
And round broken hearts tight wind a bandage,
A soft shield against life’s cold cruelty.
It’s much better now than it used to be.
They received a telegram at the door,
If lucky the vicar would come for tea,
With kind friends who had seen it all before.
A hero’s widow’s lot is a hard one,
Not much that’s good comes from using a gun.