Buried in her wedding dress

the tomb a ruin now,

cracked open is what once was blessed

where dogs and vermin prowl.

 

On fertile steps of Grove and Vine

where boots so cruelly stamped,

once yours, now theirs’s, that once was mine,

too many tribes encamped.

 

But hearts and minds don’t document

with paper, pen and deed,

what’s taken, forced, was never lent

it’s blood that bears the seed…

 

and blood that flows finds fertile earth

to grow its tender roots,

where shoots and saplings nurture worth

to crush the stamping boots…

 

that smashed the graves and raised the rats

where fruit and families grew,

that they in turn one day perhaps

return to lands they knew.

 

 

Whilst in The Lebanon in 1996 I was on a rural walk in the hills above Beirut in a place called Abey. Throughout history, as one might imagine the land had been conquered, occupied, retaken and re-settled on many occasions. There are ancient and relatively new burial sites across the region. Some so recent that the damage could be interpreted as desecration.

 

Whilst on the ramble accompanied by several of my colleagues and our trusted protective hounds I came across (or rather our dogs led me to) a fractures tomb in which I saw the skeletal remains of a woman apparently buried in her wedding dress. The dogs were obviously keen to get inside the tomb and I moved them away.

 

That image has stayed with me all these years and I have often thought about who the people were who had lived it that then deserted spot prior to their displacement.

 

That personal memory can be multiplied to thousands who have witnessed displacement first hand. I cannot imagine fully how they must feel. Such events have been visited upon many communities in that region…the cycle of revenge and resentment is forecast to endure for many years unless someone has the courage to simply stop.