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Away at the War for my mother Beryl June Judge (née Brandmill) In a dream more distant than an eight-year-old’s tomorrow, she skips past the stone wall— her dress, flowered like the field she has left, fills with wind as she calls, father, father in the empty churchyard . . . Her voice returns from the wall as she walks toward the church into its shadow which spreads across the graves—a great untouchable mountain that cannot be climbed only watched and hidden under as it grows smaller and smaller till it is gone, and she is alone once more.
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