Regret To Inform You: Eliza, March 1916

Wilton StreetFrom a series of pieces in which I address my maternal grandfather, long dead before I was born. Eliza was his mother …


 

In her flint-walled cottage
your mother braces bowed shoulders,
searches dresser drawers.
Hands shaking, retrieves her blacks –
those she will wear for years
to mourn your loss. Off the village green,
the old church steeple trembles
in its timbers and reeded stone,
bells tolling, cracked clock face stopped.

 And still, across the Channel,
the maw-trenched killing fields continue,
continue to open and swallow.

 

 

© belcanto 2017
critique and comments welcome.

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37 Comments on "Regret To Inform You: Eliza, March 1916"

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Pronto
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Bel,
I enjoyed this poignant write it really touched me. It painted pictures in my head. Maybe these weren’t the pictures you intended but they were mine and that’s all that matters. I enjoyed them.
Congratulations on being nominated.
Tony

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