In the Valley of the Dead
Make no songs that say our names;
we will not listen now.
Don’t compose poems to sing our virtues;
past small things, we do not care.
Do not praise us in speeches
written to glorify the cause;
eulogies are said by sly politicians.
If you truly would honor us,
walk quietly among white wildflowers.
Share memories of your families,
the children we cherished, the babies’
first steps, the turning of the world—
the stones hold us down, down, down,
and we cannot see beyond the loam.
Was our falling worth the cost?
Some say yes and others say no;
we do not care about the words,
the many falsehoods. the justifying.
Let us lie quietly here; our sorrows
vanquished as strife is not—wait,
what sound is that? A trumpet calls—
Copyright 2019 by Stephen B. Bagley. All rights reserved.
