I wonder if my mom will cry
like the day I said good bye
and left for my conscription.
On the day I'm to come home,
she'll be standing all alone
waiting for my presence.
But she did not even get a call
on the day that I did fall
from the bullet of his gun.
And my body they did burn
and left me without an urn
on the field where my time was done.
Will she wonder why
I don't call and write?
Will my mother ever know?
The reason why
she cannot say goodbye
and that I will never be coming home.
----Author's Note----
This poem was written in response to a news report I heard about Russian Soldiers being cremated on the battlefield in mobile crematoriums and their ashes being left there, without loved ones even being notified.
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