Frail dignity surrounded every one,

abused eyes struggling to contain their fears,

seeing a world of images past tears.

The shafts of death-dust caught in this day’s sun

create a sickening horror of what’s done.

They relive the torment of long-past years.

throughout a journey of hurt minds. Time sears

each open wound and memory undone.

Soft golden curls lie lightly through the gray;

massed broken lenses – prismatic ghosts at play

with keening spirits – hurting – in the skies

to whisper “We can never go away.

You must remember how it was we died.

Never again let men so lose their way.”