THE WAR MEMORIAL, HUNTINGDON: A POEM...

Musing

Musing, chin resting upon left hand,

Elbow upon knee;

His piercing gaze, oblivious to all but a few,

Lingers across the square,

Perhaps willing Old Ironsides to provide an answer;

The adjacent church had offered none, 

Merely employing gargoyles to mock 

This soldier’s distress

And his physical and mental trauma from trench warfare…

A poet, maybe,

Or an artist?

For the wistful pose

Speaks neither of injury, nor of death,

But simply the contemplation of the pointlessness

And his needless demise:

The poignant black permanence dominating the habitual red wreath…

Pete Ray

Huntingdon, near the church and opposite Oliver Cromwell’s schoolroom.

The WW1 memorial begs questions, rather than depicting grief...