At Tyne Cot Cemetery
Alan Butcher, the former Surrey and England cricketer, along with a group of friends, traveled out with Anglia to see a performance of the wonderful Mesh Theatre production of Journey’s End back in November. His experience over the 2 days he spent around Ypres moved Alan to write this poem.
I stoop over the grave of an unknown soldier
And place my hands on his cold headstone
Conjuring up an image of the fallen
Standing row upon row upon row
Each stooping too and facing me
Named or unnamed a soldier knows his place
Cold imaginary hands atop his own headstone
And thousands of pairs of unblinking eyes
Stare steadfastly, sadly into an unknowable future
While I stare back into a known but unimaginable past
And wonder, if those eyes should once more glow with the light of life
Would they look upon me with envy or contempt?