Memoriam For Arthur Wesney 1915-1941 If I could, I'd come to visit you, where your bones have lain these eighty years. In Libya's dangerous soil you are interred beneath the ground you died on as a youth, so many dreams unfulfilled and gone. My father, who fought with you, is now gone too, but died an old man, lying in his bed still thinking of the way you died in battle, your sacrificial blood drained in the sand. What would be gained by coming to your grave is indefinable. I cannot tell you of the millions subsequently slain and feel your sorrow heave beneath the earth, but only kneel to give you back your name.