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Celebrating the Poetry of Peace

The Falklands Conflict
Poems by Trace Currall, Juan Miguel Idiazabal, David Morgan

In April 1982, twenty-seven years ago, the Falklands Conflict or as the crisis is known in Argentina, de las Malvinas/Guerra del Atlántico Sur began. On April 2, 1982 Argentina invaded and occupied the Falkland Islands and the island of South Georgia over a dispute between the South American country and Great Britain. Argentina considered the invasión as a re-occupation of its own territory. Though the conflict was never officially declared as a war, in just 74 days nearly 1,000 were killed.

So frequently regional conflicts are shelved and not studied or explored for their impact for all those involved. One of our My Voice members, Trace Currall, a former Royal Marines Commando and veteran of the Falklands campaign posted a number of poems about the conflict on his page. We've included two of them below, added the work of a young Argentinean, Juan Miguel Idiazabal and one by David Morgan.

Burying the Dead I
by Trace Currall
Burying the dead is a metaphor.
They don't literally mean bury the dead
Try not to think too much about it
They mean put things to rest
Pull your socks up
Stop harping on
Get on with it
Let things lie
Get a grip
They've never buried the dead.
Body Bags
by Trace Currall
lead-lined bags
in a steel shell
contain the ruins of boys
steel-tined tags
in brass shells
contain the boy's ruin
brass and lead filled mags
steel Argentine boys
ruined by containers
mined grass sags
as skin containers steal
to lead other boy's ruin
stealing dog tags
ruined my mind
burying lead-lined bags

In memorial of those who fell in the Falkland (Malvinas) War
By Juan Miguel Idiazabal


27 years ago
Argentina cried.


War devastated the islands,
war ripped the Argentineans' hearts.


27 years ago thousands of kids died
only 649 reside on the islands,
the rest carry their crosses across the land,
who knows when they've died
where have they died
for what reason they've died


27 years ago.

Today we still cry,
for those who died.



No heroes

by David Morgan
There were no heroes here
Amongst the men who tramped through
Rutted, quaking moor,
Or crawled, cat-silent,
Over skittering scree
To prove the way.
No heroes fought the blazing fires
Which sucked the very blood from
Ship and man alike.
Or braved knife cold
Without a thought
To save a life.
No heroes they, but ones who loved
Sweet life and children's laugh,
And dreamt of home
When war allowed.
They were but men.


©Copyright: 2009 All Rights Reserved by the Authors

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