Still astonishing—the many dead piled,
Bones and skulls turning to dust,
Souls and spirits so many defiled,
Thoughts and tears will be what must.
Numberless are the souls lost,
A quiet horror I must abide,
Call the event Shoah or Holocaust,
And, more generally, genocide.
History’s stories have a harvesting fall,
Some lesson we must consider,
A quietness o’er the dark scenic pall,
No clear answer from any wise bidder.
Bones and dust only do remain,
Comes now a place for tranquility,
Quiet whispers give their refrain,
Moving on with such fragility.
Francis Conlon is a retired and recovering teacher. For the past 20 years, he has worked as a seasonal river ranger and boat inspector at Yampa River State Park in northwest Colorado. He has published in the local Valley Voice and in Westward Quarterly. He currently lives in Salt Lake City, Utah.