Southeast of Ypers in Belgium was the sight of several key battles on the Western front of World War 1. Searching for beauty and a sense of normality in the war torn trenches running north from Messines village past Wytschaete village, one German soldier wrote about decorating his trench with small flower beds.


I call this my
(Charred Field)
Southeast of Ypres
Is where my (Charred Field)
Is

I live in a rat hole, we dug into this
(Charred Field)
To clean our fingernails
With rusty knives
I've even stolen from this,
(Charred Field)
The best tree tops of pines,
For the perimeter.

(Charred Field)
Yields,
Bombs, mortar, shells, shells, shells and
Death. Blood. Death.
I walk around at night.
Gathering,
Rhododendrons, box, showdrops, primroses
Flowers. Blooms. Flowers.
From a ruined chateaux
South of Ypres, in Belgium,
My (Charred Field)

I've made quite nice little flower beds
In trenches dug into my
(Charred Field)
The Canadians know nothing
Of gardening
The Australians know nothing
Of gardening
The British know nothing
Of gardening
The French know a little
About it
But no man will take these
Flower beds
Or this
(Charred Field)
That I call home.

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