Remembrance Day


I was young when they said, “you’re the twin of Ewart",
Ewart the kindly, Ewart the jewel,
Who shed his blood on the fields of Ypres.
Ewart the lover, Ewart the fool.

He died thirty years before my conception
But haunted me with memorial cross,
Childhood Bible, dried red poppy.
"A beautiful child and everyone's loss."

After thirty years the memory was misty.
The tears had dried but the taste remained.
I shared the flavour and felt the absence
And think thereby I was somehow changed.

I argued for peace and tried to act kindly
With a khaki soul three steps behind.
Each time I think of the waste and hatred
That long dead youth lives on in my mind.

No comments:

Recent Reading History

  • Solar - Ian McEwen
  • New York - The Novel: Edward Rutherfurd
  • The God Delusion - Dawkins

Blog Archive