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Monte Cassion.
Spring - silence.

A thin layer of snow
covers the top,
flowers hiding
betwen rocks,
a profusion of almond trees
figs,olives,vines
growing around villages,
twisting round the hills,
their scent intoxicating.

I stood back,
fumbled in my brain
to unravel the past.

A cold shiver
woke me from a dream.
The grey mountains
shaken and split,
stones and earth
weeping,
roads twisting
between fields,
empty villages,
fragmented buildings,
fields laid waste
trees wounded.

Bodies strewn
unburied,
soil a crimson colour,
no grass,
no smell of flowers,
only decay.
roads

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