They did not chose to die for us

She dried her scarred hands
And straightened her skirt,
Another year of unremembered hurt.
She worked in munitions, whilst helping at home,
Lost work-sisters, friends, mother, brothers to war,
Others lost, and lost to thought,
Chinese workers duped into coming,
Sikh and Muslim painted out with white.
Horses rewarded with a butchers knife,
Dogs left to die after saving life.


And the annual reward for her sacrifice?
Washing the dishes at village hall, whilst others
Medals on chest, receive accolades year after year.


Her factory skills put on the back burner, told to go home and look after your man
Insulting enough but with
No fiancé returning,
And Men of her generation lost in the churning
Mud, metal, flu, seas
She becomes

Maiden aunt

Wear your poppy with pride,
But don't hide
Behind the old white men who returned,
Remember the sacrifices of all beings in war.