Her head bowed low and wracked with shame
within unhallowed ground.
A silent prayer through bitter lips escaped in hissing mockery.
Eyes cast to earth, unwilling to meet the gazes of proud men.
This mans name, known, now blown, like dust to
flights of no avail or salvation.
A soul with no intent to harm, but worked a mighty day.
Hard labourers hands too calloused to touch a silken skin,
yet ploughed the land lovingly.
Till nightfall came, then stirred the notions of failure.
The loss of work and pride, and all that made him whole.
Too great a loss, too shameful to see his childrens hungry eyes.
Too wracked to ever see a future, with him again at the helm.
The cold early morning mist, rising slowly over the dew bejewelled grass.
The solitary oak, majestic with its umbrous leaves and taunting permanence.
His final days work, a coarse length of rope to hasten his demise..
Then shame no more…..
But for her? ......for her?
Head bowed with bitter tears and angry silent words,
spoken only in her heart, as she crosses to the north side and says
farewell forever to her loved, but lost, hero.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Eyes cast to earth, unwilling to meet the gazes of proud men.This is a sensitive and thought provoking poem. Death brings sorrow but love remains in memory. Brilliantly penned poem is shared here.10
You have understood exactly my intention here! thank you for your insight and kind words. Lodigiana xx