Remembrance Day

Atlantic Sunset

Across a long stream
desperately flowing
stirred the clay,
where centuries’ toil
could be found.
A flock of creatures
wingéd sat
among the stubble,
thinking soil.
A wave, a burst,
not from heaven,
memory’s death
washed away
without a sound

Dr T.P. Wilkinson writes, teaches History and English, directs theatre and coaches cricket between the cradles of Heine and Saramago. He is also the author of Church Clothes, Land, Mission and the End of Apartheid in South Africa. Read other articles by T.P..