Tree
Determined to be
A shrine?
Passers by
Along the by-pass
Pass by
Sorry rose bouquet
Still wrapped in cellophane
Twine tied
By a drunk it seems
About the knotted trunk,
Which also displays
A poem,
Washed out
Through
Stanzas of tearful rain,
And a few
Photographs
Bleaching to greys.
German cemeteries,
Predisposed
To the disposal
Of their Great War dead,
Are lead tinted,
Not blessed
Short order lawns
Set
With serried
Rank on rank
Of whitewash crosses
Right dressed.
Gravestones
Are grey stones
Beneath
Sombre oaks
Grown full height
For spirits
To soak
Like sap
From saps
In which the bones lie,
Shell shattered,
Upwards
Through scattered clouds
Into the limitless sky.
Memory
Sinks deep roots
Seeking nourishment
To feed shoots
That,
Season by season,
Seem evermore slender,
Liable to wither.
Remembrance tree,
Hitherto
Merely a tree,
Has no reason
To serve,
As bonds that bind
Fray through
Releasing
Decapitated flower stems,
Words
And pictures,
Ceasing
To bear the weight of them
All.
Here Woden
Once hung Christ-like
Fearing the fall,
Spurned,
Waiting for when
Crows returned.
Dave
Alton
