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Rows of two-bar crosses Against a winter sky with the Black branches of leafless trees And no sign of spring. Hundreds of flags not to celebrate But as a memory of lives lost are Lodged in mounds of fresh earth Covered with thin snow. A woman kneels on the ground Before a grave graced with A wreath of flowers And a picture taken sometime During that life now framed and Placed at the foot of a cross. How we forgot that history Is always lurking in the dark Waiting to lunge forward And that any respite was only An illusion of peace. Now children no longer jump and play Or run around yards laughing together But are warned of danger from above And told to cling to cautious adults Who fear their loss and being left In the endless silence of death. |
