The deafening sound of planes overhead,
last moment to shake hands before facing
fears we never imaging could possibly
happen, on these beaches, gateway to England,
how the fire burns to return to my wife.
In the cacophony of gunfire which follows,
we learn more about fears, before they
suddenly evaporate as the grow so large
they burst our minds, survival and
killing take precedence above all else.
I saw a friend de-faced in the fray,
sobbed and charged with double the anger.
I don’t remember much else, recovering
in hospital later, surrounded by strangers,
hoping we’d win in the south of France,
and that we’d never face such horror again.