This poem is inspired by a recent visit to the Hill of Crosses in Šiauliai, Lithuania.
Ashed grey and weathered through
Surrounded some century’s
Past suffering not so different from our own.
To come and lay a sign
That love releases to save
Black memory’s, solidify some erotic emotions alluring
And then wander up and through the woven pathways
A child’s playground
Spiritual maze from loud cries of women weeping
To look up from the ground at them
And see some serialist horror
Scraped and scourged graveyard rituals
Only to feel also
peaceful serenity from suffering’s rock
Flowing with the river that sits alongside
Then to the other end
To realising that the mass continues
Around for acres of simple honoured vessels
