Somewhere in This Large Field

Ā© Sean Musil on Unsplash

 

Somewhere in this large field was once a grave—
so my brother says as he tells me stories
of our grandfather I had never heard—
no cemetery,Ā  just one sunken grave

that our granddad plowed around for however
long until he grew tired of losing wheat
or corn that might add a peck to his yield.
No county record, no ledger, no name—

we know only this: that a simple life
ended here long ago, plain words were said,
and a flat rock was sufficient headstone.
One day that austere mark was tossed away,

and then he strode behind the sweaty Belgians,
his half-deaf ears not quite hearing the plow
slicing untrod earth and roots and coming
just that close to breaking those ancient bones.

1 thought on “Somewhere in This Large Field

  1. Thee’s spot on. I can see and feel the scene… in one of the photo albums of which thee’s now custodian, are some photos from ā€œourā€ event. Thy dad (Joseph Whitehill of Third Haven Monthly Meeting) in a black (I think) slicker, as it was drizzling. Papa (Robert Sharp II, also of Third Haven) was there. I think they came to get Nana and me…

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