sitting on the sidewalk like a baby

by Wilfred Owen

'O Jesus Christ! I’m hit,’ he said; and died. Whether he vainly cursed or prayed indeed, The Bullets chirped — In vain, vain, vain! Machine-guns chuckled — Tut-tut! Tut-tut! And the Big Gun guffawed.

Another sighed, — ‘O Mother, — mother, — Dad!’ Then smiled at nothing, childlike, being dead. And the lofty Shrapnel-cloud Leisurely gestured, — Fool! And the splinters spat, and tittered.

"One of my best friends - he's sick. And he fell. He's home now, but...I've been walking around for 48 hours and I just keep asking myself: 'what if it was Steve? How could I love somebody and watch that happen?' Why did He do this? You're a priest - you have to tell me! Why did He do this? Why did God make the world this way? And why do I have to live in it?"