When I drive over the moors

in the hugger-mugger traffic,

I think of the children

murdered, hidden.


When I see the southern sweep

of the Saddleworth Road

over the fern and the peat,

I think of them.


It is almost a prayer.

And I wonder if my chance,

fellow travellers think the same.

Remembrance is solitary, transitory.


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  1. #1 by Margaret Stather - June 29th, 2011 at 08:12

    Have just been reading your latest poems – loved the Larkin Revisited. The one that really strikes a chill in the heart is Crossing the Pennines as each time I travel the route (which I do very frequently) and see the sign Saddleworth Moor I always think of those poor children in such a bleak and lonely place. It makes me feel so sad. However, it is good to think that they are not forgotten.

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