On a Roman street
Sunday, January 11, 2009
On their backs
on their backs
they die for the cause
but so soon forgotten
their names
their faces
their lives
existing only in the memories of their own
their bones the bricks
their blood the mortar
foundation of a reformed nation
in a corner of the world
most of their countrymen will never see
they died for a cause
they wished to serve their country
but they gave their lives
for strangers half way round the world
not knowing why or what for or what of
or how
their ultimate contribution
would be worn
proudly as gold-threaded robes
or as scraps on the backs of beggars
Photo and words, Copyright (C) 2008, Robin Kurtz
The Search
Are there any answers
I think not
One man’s God is another man’s rot
We search and search
from tender youth
To find what we consider truth
But even if we’re open minded
How shall we know when we find it
For everything learned limits our thought
And who’s to say what’s to be taught
Perhaps the best searchers are children and fools
They have yet to be jaded
By knowing the rules
Photo and words, Copyright (C) 1983, Robin Kurtz
Published in "Introspects"
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
