Hushed beneath a winter sun peaking
behind layered gigantic cloud floating
over flooded waste-land, stripped trees straight,
no soul wandering, no soul lost,
no wind stirring, just eerie silence.
Hush fills once red world where many met fate
when evil was Hitler who didn’t count cost
of skeletons, of souls, of holocaust.
Rendering all speechless in flummoxed silence
as thoughts wander to soldier and Jew, lost
souls cut-short though never forgot
as we look on these marshes in stunned silence.
Now these views stand void, no bullets, no echoing
no blood, no soldiers, no souls wandering.
Sonnet 15 of 100
The photo above was taken by my friend Dom, who has a wonderful eye for atmosphere. Upon reflecting on the photo, T.S. Eliot’s poem ‘The Wasteland’ came to mind. As I wrote the poem, themes of World War 2 entered the rhyme scheme. I hope the above poem will help you reflect or chew or muse on something or other.