Hitler's Grave

17 August 2023

https://poems.culturing.net/2023/08/hitlers-grave/

I went to Hitler's grave the other day,
just off the beaten path, through rows of trees,
the smell of sulphur lingering. It was a quiet place,
not oft disturbed, but on the stone I saw
a clump of roses, dying though not dead.
Someone had left them, as if hoping
even here in man's best nature. I was touched
and yet disturbed, but it occurred to me
that Hitler may have liked the smell of roses
or the sun upon his face, as we all do,
and that his favor had not made these things less good,
nor had his crimes. If we but had the time,
we might rehearse his glory and his shame,
but we are fading, through this age into the next,
and soon this grave will not remain, replaced by new ones.
What is left to say? I picked up the bouquet
and plucked the rarest, left that one as a memento,
brought the rest back to the living,
where they may still do some good.