Silence.
Silence except the wind’s light murmur
Through poplar avenues.
A beaming sun warms the rich red fertile earth
And plays upon the pure white words.
Lines of stone stood solemn and proud,
Symmetrical,
To attention.
To walk amongst them feels like intrusion.
To live on their land, their terms.
To read their last words
And on one to kneel and lay the first flowers
Upon my great grandfather’s grave.
© Teeming Universe 2008
6 comments:
So rich, so poignant and such wonderful imagery!
Absolute Vanilla: Thank you very much for your kind words (and thanks for my first ever comment!)
Ever since I visited a war cemetery when I was sixteen, many years ago, they have had a real effect on me, particularly when I saw so many were only a year or two older than I was.
It is a powerful experience, isn't it. I visited Yad Vashem (the holocaust memorial/museum) in Jerusalem some years ago and the impact was profound.
Absolute Vanilla: Yes, I can imagine that a visit there would be a most moving and affecting experience.
Yes, it is the silence that remains in the memory - strong words.
Minx: The tranquillity seemed so completely at odds with what must have gone before.
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