Karen Booker: November 2015
I fight against the cold of winter's breath
as I make my way through rows of crosses
towards the memorial wall:
a massive monolith to man's massacre of man.
The names of
our glorious dead -
too numerous to count or contemplate,
send shivers down my spine.
I turn to face the landscape bleak,
with crimson stains of poppy streaks -
this land as much a testament to these
as any stones.
I turn again, and touch the wall,
to find it strangely warm beneath my fingers.
These aren't just names, but sons and husbands,
who gave their all — that I can live.
I leave much warmer in my heart and mind
touched by his memorial to humankind.
popular recent storiesAlso in the news
The online worship service for 17th October is led by Rev Michael Hopkins who is based at The Spire Church in...
Autumn AmbleOvercast but enjoyable!There were just five people brave enough to tackle the wilds of Alice Holt Forest on a damp, misty morning. But the rain didn't come to anything, and the walk, exploring little-used parts of the forest, was enjoyed by all five. A good meal at The Blue Bell completed a pleasant morning's exercise in beautiful...
Worship Service led by Rev Philip Simpkins.The readers are Paul Fry and Angela...