Everywhere I have been this summer, I have seen flags flying at half-mast. These flags are a constant reminder that this is a nation in mourning; so many young men and women are dying in places most of us will never see.
This poem by Carl Sandburg can be read in more than one way; is Sandburg criticizing us for how fast we forget those who die in battle or is he saying that time heals all wounds, and the grass is simply doing its job by covering up the horrors we don't want to remember? Perhaps a bit of both.
Grass
Carl Sandburg (1878-1967)
Pile the bodies high at Austerlitz and Waterloo,
Shovel them under and let me work--
I am the grass; I cover all.
And pile them high at Gettysburg
And pile them high at Ypres and Verdun.
Shovel them under and let me work.
Two years, ten years, and passengers ask the conductor:
What place is this?
Where are we now?
I am the grass.
Let me work.
Today's Poetry Friday roundup is at The Well-Read Child.
2 comments:
My vote would be, a little of both. And I think he's offering this poem as a way of honoring the dead in a lasting way.
Interesting contrast to the Emily Dickinson poem about grass you shared a few months ago.
There were actually some politicos in Michigan complaining about the flags at half-staff, saying it should be reserved for - I forget, dead politicians or something. Our governor held her ground, though. And yes, flags are all too frequently lowered in honor of fallen soldiers.
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