Skins on bones <br />upstaged the ash pile <br />in a damp narrow hut, <br />crouched before their executioners. <br /> <br />They had no tears <br />even though they tried to weep. <br />They did not bleed, over the weeks. <br />They were smoked without washing. <br /> <br />On the cusp of death, they sang: <br />let anthem rain <br />in the Promised Land! <br />Let anthem rain <br />where we come to sing <br />our songs of redemption. <br />Let anthem rain! <br /> <br />History is tardy but the ground <br />is a faithful witness. <br />This history will not be repeated, <br />memories restless where ashes wail.<br /><br />Buxton Shippy<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/ashes-42/
