Unearthing Gertrude

Unearthing Gertrude (or Buried in Baghdad)
Your love of lifeless stones
and ancient bricks is still talked of in these
parts and of how your intellect and passion was such
an intriguing disfigurement for a woman
I hear that you and Mr Lawrence shared
an excellent breakfast of melon and apricots laughing as
china cups kissed at the crack of a dawn gun
And as he watched shadows shuffling to prayer
you watched him open his mouth to taste
their convinction What isn't talked
about (as would be considered rude in these parts)
is that tho' many marched to colonial tunes others
took off their boots to place fragile bones upon
the soft crust of this tender land and limping on one foot
dragged the other drawing a line
behind now as lines are drawn
and redrawn you still lie sleeping in the
heart of your treasured city can you not
hear them those ancient bricks pulsating
stacking themselves ready for growth
you need to rise you must not rest
it needs the soul of an archaeologist to rebuild
Baghdad not the mind of some politician who merely
opens his mouth to yawn