blowing in the wind

Blowing in the Wind

Wild oats and thistles covered the track swiping
at my legs as a punishment for old sins I thought
safely forgotten in the misty dale that makes
wars look romantic adventure that separated men
from boys where the trespasses are buried under
flowers and manly never referred to unless you
are a soppy fool who betrays old soldiers secrets.
The cottage was still there but trees around it had
grown so big it could not be seen from the road.
the door was easy to open the window had layers
of spiders’ webs as curtains made the room shady
in the noon heat. In the intense silence the past
came thundering alive, so many grave not visited
and tears of those betrayed ran down my chin,
a lake of clarity, a mirror I couldn’t run away from
I punched the stone wall, bloody knuckles, I had
Spilt much blood but never my own I savoured
the pain, stood on an ancient table throw a rope
over a beam, when my dog barked wanted to come
in from the heat…At ease now I walked back to
the road and drove home.