I tramp for miles across low Field
from chalky cliffs through ancient Wield
from Spire to Spire and all between
beneath each stride lie those unseen
November’s light is quick to fade
as were the souls with which was paid
the credit that with every Step
we promise them “We wont forget”
Yet in the swathe of Fallen Leaf
the scarlet petals wilting grief
seems soon forgot by passers by
as were the voices asking “Why”
Then as the early fall of night
casts shadows on my failing sight
I’ll stand before a Wooden Cross
to contemplate their greatest loss
The cold envelope of day arrived,
Before the waking hours it had malingered not wishing to break.
An invisible blade separated the confines of its containment,
Slowly all the events it bore spilled into being.
Its contents multiplied and diminished in equal measure,
It delivered and received with both joy and sorrow.
Those subjected to its presence being captive to the great unravelling
Neither flinched or submitted, they simply absorbed themselves.
The heavenly body it arrived upon dissolved to darkness,
Carrying everything and nothing away in its void.
All that was, still was. All that had been, had been.
Everything had changed, everything was the same.
Fingers fall on keys
Sweet sounds soothe minds
Like breeze through trees.
We sway and dance
As if to swerve,
We pray and chance
To hold our nerve.
No Matter how
we lean or bend,
The storms that form us
Meet their end.
And in the nooks
Our journeys knot,
We can but hope
We’re not forgot.