Today I am posting a poem that is not my own. Thomas Hardy, with his poem 'The Man He Killed', makes us look at the casualties of war as the individual with a family, a life, and a hope for a future. In light of all the anger that is erupting in Egypt right now, I felt the desire to read this poem today and thought I would share.
Hardy talks about how he and this man under peaceful circumstances may have shared a drink, or two, but because they are standing face to face in a war, they are enemies and one of them must go down. He describes this man as if he is looking at himself across the battlefield, which begs us to ask the age old question: In war who are we destroying, the enemy, or ourselves?
The Man He Killed
By Thomas Hardy
Had he and I but met
By some old ancient inn,
We should have set us down to wet
Right many a nipperkin*!
But ranged as infantry,
And staring face to face,
I shot at him as he at me,
And killed him in his place.
I shot him dead because--
Because he was my foe,
Just so: my foe of course he was;
That's clear enough; although
He thought he'd 'list, perhaps,
Off-hand like--just as I--
Was out of work--had sold his traps--
No other reason why.
Yes; quaint and curious war is!
You shoot a fellow down
You'd treat, if met where any bar is,
Or help to half a crown.
*A nipperkin would have been similar to saying you were having a pint at the local pub, just a different glass size.
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