- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Pilgrimage
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It is strange to pass the places one by one,
Potent names that once were thought could not be reached.
But reached they were,
And left behind,
Pointe Du Hoc and Arromanches,
Juno, Gold and Utah Beach.
Relics rust in fitting stance, the trace of war abounds.
Shattered concrete guarding suspect flanks,
Which might be turned,
And often were,
By soaking men and armoured beasts,
Landing Craft and D.D. tanks.
See that old man? He was here,
Staring across the golden sand and placid sea.
Medals he wears,
But they tell nought.
His silent stance is all we need,
Leave him to his reverie.
And here at last, the aftermath, the battle having passed,
A sea of crosses in a Bocage field,
Slumbering heroes,
Friend and foe,
Some hard to stop, and others
Loathe to yield!
