Many women lost partners in the Great War and lived out their lives in the loneliness of remembrance. It has been said that there were those who somehow knew of their bereavement before being officially told. However, every conflict has its own aftermath of sorrow.
O love where is your welcome hand
Lost in the times of glory?
Your death the whispering breeze did tell,
From the shell torn pits of Hell
In conflict’s hapless story.
Your kith and kin depart the land,
To join you in the winds that blow;
I yearn your presence day by day,
This will be so, till they me lay,
Where no crimson poppies grow.
Then in God’s Kingdom we will stand,
Tears anointing our embrace;
Memories of youth refreshed anew,
When waving I bid you adieu,
To a foreign field devoid of grace.
Monty Alexander 10.12.03