War Poet.ca - A CFAP Project by Suzanne Steele

after (2)

here on the border of Sask./Montana a dusty town. ranchers. artists.
scientists. students. the elders moved in from the ranch hunkered down in little houses. traded sections of land for little lots.

prairie town main drag. bank (closed). chinese restaurant (closed). movie theatre (closed). hotel/bar/resto (open). grocery store (open). art gallery (open). library (open). the street wide enough to turn a team of horses, a wagon. dry. little dust devils. a dog could lie in the middle of the road and not get run over. the hotel sign squeak squeak squeaks in the wind.

at the end of the road, in front of the old grain elevator (closed) partially restored, the cenotaph. little tiny town. she gave her boys to those other wars. long, long ago.

and I remember Berlin 1990. the end of one of those wars really. after the wall came down. after east and west reunified. I remember thinking about all the tiny towns, little villages across this big country. a little stone. a little cenotaph in each and every one.

in my own village on the coast a granite marker. WWI, WWII, Korea. still not Afghanistan, though we lost one of ours early on.

and the thing is. after war, the village carries on. and some villages thrive and some fail. some fade. and one looks at the names in bronze and stone. wonders what/who they would have become. would they be one of the elders hunkered down. put in a lifetime working the land. or would they, as so many others have, moved on?


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The page you're reading contains a single diary entry entitled after (2). It was posted here on July 12, 2010.

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