Fränz Müller

Messines

Moving earth

Each handful a dagger

Aimed at mine enemy.

A silent storm, war clouds gathering

Air electrified, awaiting the first strike.

A century passes

A new army sweeps the landscape

Of grandchildren and great-grandchildren

Hearts full of pride and regret

Eyes taking in the lunar landscape

Alive now with wildflowers.

With tears flowing, they dampen that dust, that

Moving earth.