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A Lamentation
by Martin Kroll

You called me sister once
among the towers of San Giminagno
We crossed the Bridge of Sighs together as the children ran ahead
In Lisbon's narrow ways
we stopped to stare at the white sheets hanging in the Alfama
Among the castles of Toledo
we marvelled at the martial turrets
But now, sister, we lay you down in the grassy sod of Valhalla
You filled my ear with your inner thoughts when anxiety struck
I soothed your fears with soft syllables of balm as did mine
It is late sister
but I will look for you
in the fields of my mind
I will lay a remembrance on your headstone and frame you in the recesses of my heart
The candle burns in the darkness even if we cannot see the flame


 

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