Visions

Monuments

Stone monuments row on row,
placed with loving care
and middle class pride.
We brush aside their silent witness
to find our own kin.
If this one could speak
you would see a heart-broken mother
standing beside her husband's coffin:
"Oh John! John! My darling John!
Oh John, John, my John, My John!"
while a dumb, twelve year old watched
and wondered where he had heard that before,
the rhythm, the choice of words, the repetition.
and it struck him
that so David had wept over Absolom.
In three thousand years
the tragic secrets
of the human heart
have changed so little!


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Monuments

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