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