In An Endless Silent Scream (rev)

I, too, have looked to the balconies where
the bells rang, where the peal of sweet tones
sang cascading shivers in my soul. I, too,
found the ant trails winding in the summer
heat, the blinding white of the streets bathed
in a lethargy as deep as the tomb’s shroud.

I cried with the dispossessed, cried for the dead,
for the weak and the maimed. There was no
resurrection entrained in our uprising; we died
the final death in the streets, our flags dragged
in the dust, trampled by the feet of the citizens
we’d come to save.

The conquerors came for the bells, they silenced
the sound that joined us with our dead – and now
in an endless silent scream we lie down one by one
to die.
© 4 May 2007, I.D. Carswell