monuments

this city, washed
in grey light. no luminous
wings of angels,
no bright swords,
it's the darkness
of rain,
the cloak
of sadness that death
brings,
shadowing the monuments
of war,
the false glory
of victory
that we bathe in.
in stone
we give the dead names,
they give us
the space
they leave behind
to walk in and live
our lives.