Lawrence
Hall
Dispatches for the Colonial Office
LogoSophia Magazine – A Pilgrim's
Journal of Life, Literature and Love
A Skull and a Missing Boundary Marker
For Memorial Day
“We’re in Cambodia,” the boat captain whispered
Unlike Shelley’s Ozymandias
There were no trunkless legs of stone, no carvings
No border station, no marker, no words
The skipper cut the engines. We drifted. Heat
Silence beneath the encoffining trees
Perhaps the ghosts were telling us to go away
Remember them maybe, but go away
Someone handed me an aged skull he had found
Vietnamese?
French?
Japanese?
Cambodian?
Too old to be an American
All had passed, and we were passing too
No boundary marker, only a skull
Eternal rest grant unto them, O
Lord, and let perpetual Light shine upon them. May they rest in peace.
