The Mythicals – 0: Archie – a memorial
Every day we walk through the woods at the bottom of our lane. On one of the paths in a clearing there is a bench.
a modest bench stands on a path in Ridings Wood
ringed by hornbeams, bedded in ringcups and columbine,
where we stop to rest, listen to the guardian trees.
the words chiselled into the stainless steel plaque
have not been dulled; they are as bright as the child
in whose memory they were etched –
“Archie: 15th October – 11th November”.
the love of those who loved him clear, unveiled,
its pulse feeding every cut of the blade, twist of the grain,
running into the hearts of those who stand, contemplate
the wonder of a life that though short remains
a wonder to those that loved and love
and death, though it has fed deep, could not cloud –
He is still a son, a brother, a bloom signed so precious
He was early called to flower in His Father’s garden,
the aching space He left quickly shaped and filled with that
which marks us human; memories standing monument
against the tide of time and making life a thing of beauty.
we rise touched by the astounding dappled grace of this place
and walk on to complete the circle back to our own.