Ghosts, in memorial
The annual wraith of war
stalks sensitive earth,
leaving blood-stained trails
haunting tendered lives
with its heavy boots.
Ghosts, in memorial,
gather around
gatherings around
memorial stones
and half masted flags.
Poppies, in abundant echo,
badge lawyers and teachers,
housewives and doctors,
nurses and drivers
who have never ventured
before gunfire,
nor skirted craters
in a rush to oblivion.
The holy water of tears
elaborates grim remembrances
of histories shared
or
held at arms length by generations
that poorly understand
the painful chaos of conflict.
Keith Wallis
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