“May 8th 1945”

 

Crowds thronged the streets
Waving Union Flags
Dancing, singing
Sowing seed for 
Next fill-dike's ‘fathers unknown’
In chance encounters
In ale house toilets,
Arboretum flower beds
Or tucked under municipal bandstands
While Boys’ Brigade buglers mauled
"God Save the King". 

Scattered among the celebrant tide
Stoical 
Unremarkable
A regiment of mothers stands
Petrified trees in a seascape 

Hoping 
Hoping
Hoping
Beyond hope
That their Johnnie
Or Reggie (after an uncle killed at the Somme )
Might alight from the Waterloo train
Throw cap and kitbag down
Rush to mum's arms
And promise, never to go to war again.

They wear a shabby uniform;
Floral apron
Elastic stockings
Head scarf tied beneath the chin
against the chill

They stand
Staring
Arms folded
Not speaking
Not eating
Waiting.

The crowd melts away
The mothers stay

And the next day
And the next and the next after that
At street corners
And stations
Continue their watch

 Near three thousand days later
Coronation crowds 
Flock the streets 
Waving cheap cotton Union Flags
Arms aching and jaws
From singing the anthem.

The regiment of mothers
Whose love will outlive them
Fewer now
Older now, 
Stooped and gaunt
Still stand
Silent
Weather worn
Living monuments 

Arms folded
Looking at faces
Watching at stations
Hoping beyond hope
That Johnnie
Or Reggie (after an uncle lost at the Somme )
Might yet alight from the Waterloo train
Throw cap and kitbag down
Rush to mum's arms
And promise never to go to war again.

I stand sentry
Behind bamboo blinds
Scouting the street
Hoping to sight a familiar step
Awaiting that hug
That kiss
That says, “War is over. Friends again.”

Waiting…
Like countless thousands
Rooted
Staring at a silent phone
Willing it to ring

To hear that whispered
“I love you “
That never comes.

In time hearts ease
She who tired of me 
Will fade to mere vague memory
Then...be forgotten 

Unlike that monstrous regiment
Who waited at corners
And stations
For those they ’d never see again.