Dawn Service

The Cenotaph
grey streaked stone crumbling
once hewn bright and golden yellow
from river cliffs that men loved

Names mute
on a marble tablet
like a guest list to a grand party
have faded
as the stone has blackened
with generations of rain

I always read them
not knowing one from the other
but that they should be read

Young men in fresh uniform
witness tributes to fathers and sons
their gaze averts the blank page
that awaits inscription

The Ode cuts night to dawn
the sinking silence of recent battle
greets the sun

So forgive us old man
if today we cherish each moment of peace
Lest we forget the obscenity of war


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