Kranji

A sanctuary of peaceful silence
amidst a bustling city,
a retreat from material views
to where the spirit reigns.

The whitewashed gate beckons one
to enter into a realm of peace,
of green grass and birdsong
and fields of living stone.

Look at the stones.
They each have a story to tell
of the dreams of a time past
before it all ended.

A journal of life and death
for so it is,
this very site of peace
which commemorates the deaths of war.

What does one think, when one sees
the name of one Christian solder,
and his departure through violent means
of a family full of love?

And that one there, that one has
died without a name, but 'Known Unto God'.
God knows thee, but the grief of your family,
they do not know where you lie.

At another place, one not of the Christian God,
yet honoured amongst his kind.
What did you think, son of the soil,
at the moment of your immolation?

And the little gravestone of a little child
who lived for short, suffering days.
A victim of desperate circumstances,
An angel who returned too quick to the Maker.

And the names, carved on the walls,
of the church of those passed on.
Each one a life, a hope, a dream,
all gone, gone with the wind.

And the special place reserved for those
who were committed to fire.
May they rest in the peace
denied at their moment.

A sanctuary of peace this is. Yet
it is the story of a people's lifetime,
of death, destruction, and despair,
but yet of life, dreams, and hope.

I take my leave. The voices of those dead
follow my fading trail,
saying without words, yet in one voice,
"No more. Never again."