Acrylic on 12x16 in canvas
I started this one a few years back and left it abandoned. I decided it was time to finish it.
Where you Stood
It was early spring when we buried you. An unknown solider bearing the colors not of our own. Had you been a knight, someone may have come looking for you.
It was not my idea, I would have just left you there, to rot amongst the decaying trunks and forest litter. It was the kindness of my kin. that which youth and ignorance had yet allowed me to learn for myself. Such a kindness I didn’t yet understand.
It was autumn when they came for the men. The trumpet blast of war bellowed once more, calling away those it missed before. I found myself visiting your grave more often in those days.
Two years more, and we’re no longer strangers. My father had yet to come home, nor had we been given so much as a hint to where he lay.
I understand that kindness now, and I find myself wondering. Would have struck me down back then? This chatty child who grew where you took your final breath, where you now lay. Who plucked violets and laid them over the rocks that cover your body.
My hair grows grey now, and the old oak where you were buried no longer blooms as it once had. It was already old when we laid you to rest.
The rocks which cover you now wear moss, your sword, which marks your grave, no longer shines as it had. Yet its still standing where you last stood.