Beautiful Boy

He was Josef in the nativity, wore gowns at his academic peak,

The beautiful child in pastures green, with their countenance of Summer blooms,

Under bright blue skies he ran with joy, as only a child can.

Whilst in winter following ski tracks high criss-crossed switching points to endless destinations.

Destined to reach for the skies, summer swallow, swooping high, 

proud golden wings adorned his chest.

But that was then, now, 

Blood red eyes scream of two hours sleep,

Fear, an ever present hand clutching at his bowels. 

Befuddled mind, flipping switches, a well rehearsed dance.

They took to the air, heading towards a word, 

moth-like drawn towards a careless lamp.

The stench of burning fuel permeating into every pore.

As the endless cacophony of the metallic symphony claws its way through the night. 

With unwanted haste they reached their destination,

Ariadne’s thread they followed the dark river light.

The gentle hum of a hydraulic melody, the stochastic rhythm of static guns, 

And in that moment the seeds let fly, to blossom and bloom on the cold earth,

Clustered clumps of fiery yellow, blood red and orange grasping upwards towards their birth. 

But fate turns a card, and in an instant with a Valkyric scream the metallic symphony stops.

The feathered blade of the conductor’s baton taps. 

Nature's adagio, pull the broken bird towards its snow capped fold.

No Hellenic fight, no odyssey for a heroes to sing around campfires warm, 

Just the laws of physics, blunt in emotionless intent. 

The wreckage spread on the hillside, a squat blight of ugliness, against virgin white. 

Face down in the snow the beautiful boy, broken by the fight.

Whilst in his homeland a black edged missive winds its way. 

The youthful harbinger delivering in innocence the words that every mother dreads, 

It is with regret that we must inform you that your son is, 

‘Missing in action presumed dead’.