You will always have less trouble with a snake in a towsack than a man in a robe

Shallow lines on polished stone

Each a story of its own

Each a Man, a man’s Life

Reduced to the marks of a carver’s knife

Place your ear against the stone

Hear the screams and hear the moans

Of Souls and Bodies torn apart

Suspended in that awful Dark

Now let your fingers trace these lines

Follow me back in time

Mothers, Fathers, Wives who mourn

Little Children’s lives are torn

So now you understand my grief

Share my rage, my disbelief

You’ve seen my fallen Brothers’ Pall

And traced their names upon this Wall

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Comments on: "Shallow lines on polished stone" (3)

  1. I was very moved by this poem.
    Mike

  2. How very, very high is the price of a single life. One tormented soul, one crippled body, one death, extends to us all.

  3. Beautiful

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