Reflections of Home by Marjorie Atkinson

Reflections of Home

Mud, shrinking flesh, blood pouring from our wounds
The British take us to safety, but still the
bombs, flow

To the house so clean and fresh
We speak no English only Flemish
Hands help us all
My mind mixed up with worrying and pain
My wife! my children will be worrying what’s
happened to me?

Am I dead? Or alive?
No sunshine the days so bleak, and I’m so weak
Smiling faces. The ladies are so helpful
Help us get through the days
Therapy, kindness help us get well
The nurses and other ladies help to pass
our days

Learning English is my goal.
Thanks the British for my life so I can go home
When will this war ever end?

Marjorie Atkinson (Osmondthorpe Creative Writing Group)