As a column, as so often before,
	Misery breaks in with combatants,
	Pillage, murder, chopped throats.

	As sprayed flocks got away,
	Irretrievables were bewailed:
	'He let me dwell in darkness
	like those long dead.'
	'Look at our despair, Lord
	of this blood soaked soil.'

	An aesthetic word wreath
	Does not grasp the deed.
	The blunt view of corpses
	Does not move the eye,
	Missing are claims and cuffs
	For justice.

	This is a poster
	With fact, picture, a call
	That tomorrow
	Will spot from every wall.

	(Quotes: Lamentations 3,6 and
	G Walden: We, the Lost – 1943)

Udo Frentzen 2014