Finding you wasn’t hard
although you all looked the same beneath ever changing skies.
Stark bright and upright against the cornflower blue of summer suns
pure under winter’s thundery slate skirts
or, quietly bathed in autumn’s sleepy amber hues.
Did you think, at twenty two, that generations would stand here by your side
imagining the glory, the fear
withholding anger or sorrow for you?
Racing clouds allow the sun a turn.
Your gentle name, in thirty rows of harvested youth
is brushed by rays like life-giving fingers.
No. I am humbled by your fall; your sacrifice and your love.
©Anna Ghislena 2013