At Tyne Cot Cemetery

Alan Butcher, the former Surrey and England cricketer, along with a group of friends, traveled out with Anglia to see a performance of the wonderful Mesh Theatre production of Journey’s End back in November. His experience over the 2 days he spent around Ypres moved Alan to write this poem.

I stoop over the grave of an unknown soldier

And place my hands on his cold headstone

Conjuring up an image of the fallen

Standing row upon row upon row

Each stooping too and facing me

Named or unnamed a soldier knows his place

Cold imaginary hands atop his own headstone

And thousands of pairs of unblinking eyes

Stare steadfastly, sadly into an unknowable future

While I stare back into a known but unimaginable past

And wonder, if those eyes should once more glow with the light of life

Would they look upon me with envy or contempt?