A Women's Cry, A Soldier's Roar

• Elizabeth Read, Grade 9, Riverina Anglican College
• Poetry
• 2010

Finalist in the 'Something With Bite 2010' competition

A woman white, she does no less than soldier black in trench and turf.
Nursing men in her best dress, her love and warmth have equal worth.
In droves they come, in droves they die – A soldier’s roar, a woman’s cry.
The ‘comfort’ of the cold dirt floor holds no happiness, no ease or favour.
And in the mouths of men at war, it has a distinctly disgusting flavour.
They stare at death from dusk till dawn – A woman’s cry, a soldier’s roar.
The horrors of war not his alone-gunshot men with dead best friend
The woman white also takes home, and dreams and weeps as much as them.
Save pity for the woman white – A soldier’s roar, a woman’s cry.
And each time a bayonet stabs into a heart, each time withdraws
A picture of a mum, a dad, a child, all wasted by the war.
If only man would fight no more! A woman’s cry, a soldier's roar.
And if we could these trenches fill, then black and white may seem the same,
But soldier black, he works to kill, and woman white, she works to save.
Still, hear the sounds of wailing war – A woman’s cry, a soldier's roar.