The Messenger
I’m the man, who knocks on doors, three times,
to tell parents or wife their son or husband has
been killed in Afghanistan.
There is a hush about me when walking down
a street, inhabited by those who send their sons
to war, even dogs are quiet
They are brave, the bereaved, bowed heads
and tears… pride too, after all their son died in
defense of western values.
A few get angry shout abuse about our country
blame us for the war, those people have to be
observed, sedition is a crime.