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The Bridge. These faces, these names Are a bridge from then to now All those young men, all those hearts Walking on the unfamiliar brow Of an unfamiliar hill From Stocksbridge to a kill. These soldiers, these boys Are a bridge from now to then All those uniforms walking slowly
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These faces, these names Are a bridge from then to now All those young men, all those hearts Walking on the unfamiliar brow Of an unfamiliar hill From Stocksbridge to a kill
These soldiers, these boys Are a bridge from now to then All those uniforms walking slowly All these unforgotten men On an unfamiliar hill From Stocksbridge to a kill
You can hear Yorkshire In the way they talk You can see Stocksbridge In the way they walk You can see the men they could have become As they march behind the beating of history’s drum
These phantoms, these ghosts Walk behind us as we go Through Grenoside in the sun Through Deepcar in the snow This is where Remembrance starts: From Stocksbridge to our hearts.
The Bridge Poem by Ian McMillan Photographs by Ian Beesley
The Bridge Inresponse to Ian McMillan’s poem and the war memorials of Stocksbridge I have tried to connect them all photographically, historically and metaphorically I decided to use a plate camera, this was the sort of camera used during WW 1, all the exposures were two minutes in duration, to reference the silence on Remembrance day and finally I printed the images and poems on paper that was made in factory in Northern France near to where these men fell. Their new Remembrance created in Stocksbridge on a little bit of France.