The anonymous lay in perfect alignment. Mourned by a lamenting wind That took their breath, First and last. The graves have no epitaph, And white crosses leave long shadows. Folded flags rest upon empty tombs No bones, no soul. When the 21 wisps of smoke dissipated, So did their remembrance. Like faded names in concrete guild Carved in history for us to forget. Some place far from here, Faces stare through soil At a conjured image of a face they know, So that they can care.