This is the field where the battle did not happen
Where the unknown soldier did not die
This is the field where gra** joined hands
Where no monument stands
And the only heroic thing is the sky
Birds fly here without any sound
Unfolding their wings across the open
No people k**ed — or were k**ed — on this ground
Hallowed by neglect and an air so tame
That people celebrate it by forgetting its name