Distant artillery boomed,
the clock tolled.
The crowd fell into a mighty hush.
The deep abyss of quiet was filled with silent memories.
Together we walked
down empty corridors
searching for their fallen comrades.
Unfolding generations of desolation;
Uncles, grandfathers, fathers never known.
Sweethearts and wives and mothers
crumpled and wilted,
like cut flowers left too long wrapped in paper.
In this silent chasm
a child wailed,
inconsolable in his grief.
– Melinda Schwakhofer, 2010