POETRY: A Magazine of Verse
Young Soldier. Why did not you go?
Old Woman. I am too old to leave the house where I was born. I hid myself, and your father said they could not waste time looking for me.
Young Soldier. How long before the firing began did they leave?
Old Woman. About an hour, I think.
Young Soldier. Then they must all be killed.
Old Woman. Yes, perhaps.
Young Soldier. They might have hidden in the hills.
Old Woman. They did not have time. War is terrible for poor people, Charles.
Young Soldier. It is, indeed. If you could see the things I have seen! Our field and the old barn are all torn, and the bridge over the brook is blown up.
Old Woman. It is very terrible to think of.
Young Soldier. Granny!
Old Woman. Yes, Charles.
Young Soldier. If I tell you something you must not be frightened.
Old Woman. I will try not to be.
Young Soldier. I am only a ghost, Granny. I am lying dead out there with my eyes open. I could not close them any more than I could close the door.
Old Woman. Now I can tell you, Charles: I am only a ghost, too; my body is lying in the cellar.
Young Soldier. You were killed when the shell blew the house to pieces?
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