I sing again,
‘Though stone conceals
The way you laughed
The day we met.
I sing again,
‘Though stone’s defaced
Your wonky smile,
Your honey lips.
I sing again,
‘Though stone forgot
The tunes you made up
Just for fun.
You ran away
To war, they said,
Without a kiss,
A little death now etched in stone.
Memorials in stone are dead,
Ill-equipped to help or heal;
Instead of poppies, stuttered words,
I
Shall
Sing again.
Memorials mask the raw emotion of human loss.
