By 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.
childrenfellow travellershugger-muggerM6remembranceSaddleworthThe Moors MurdersThe Pennines
Margaret Stather
June 29, 2011Have 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.