White Crosses, poem by Deborah Strozier

      One stood alone,
      three beside the oak tree.

      A few dotted
      turquoise pastures,
      fields, a dozen scattered

      around hairpin
      curves to the college campus.

      At night they glowed
      through the years,
      one wooden cross for each life.

      When the town widened
      both lanes and straightened
      the newly lit road,

      no one could stop
      the mayor who pulled
      and tossed armfuls
      like stiff weeds into trash bags.

      Now the mothers, fathers,
      and loved ones have nowhere
      to dry their eyes.



AddThis Social Bookmark Button