Turn To The Sun

She picks her way carefully
between the words of your
lives.

Two lives
condensed to a scratch on stone.
The churchyard mud
sticks.

Whistles, shouts, commands
scar through shreds of boys.
"We're going over the top."

You did.


Each bone and breath, gasp and greatness 
remain.
Smothered by blood and mud.
And the savage loss of years.

She wants to lift you up.
See you stretch, smile, shake
off the dust.
Turn your faces to the sun and
race back
to the rest of your lives.

But touches
cold stone.

Yet walks away 
holding warm hands.