The Graves at Mill Point

Alf Watt is in his grave

These eighty years.

From his bones a bloodwood grows

With long leaves like tears.

His girl grew weary long ago;

She’s long lost the pain

Of crying to the empty air

To hold her boy again.

When he died the town died.

Nothing’s left now

But the wind in the bloodwoods:

“Where did they go?

In the rain beside the graves

I heard their tears say

– This is where the world ends;

The world ends today.

Six men, seven men

Lie in one furrow.

The peaty earth goes over them,

But cannot blind our sorrow – ”

“Where have they gone to?

I can’t hear or see.

Tell me of the world’s end,

You heavy bloodwood tree.”

“There’s nothing but a butcher-bird

Singing on my wrist,

And the long wave that rides the lake

With rain upon its crest.

There’s nothing but a wandering child

Who stoops to your stone;

But time has washed the words away,

So your story’s done.”

Six men, seven men

Are left beside the lake,

And over them the bloodwood tree

Flowers for their sake.