Poem by Airic Rosenbalm.
* * *
There are children
Rottin’ in this coffin
Two to a box they said
Carry them up they said
There are skulls, with souls
They linger in my fingers
This is right they said
Carry them they said
And so I did
I carried these souls
Up, up, up, This mountain
In their stead
One, two, three, four,
How many more?
How much can I take?
I feel their ache.
Snow, rain, heat, hail,
I know one day that I will fail
I only hope I can make,
Someone else bear their ‘sake
It is not my guilt
It is my rage
You will not lie for their crimes
It will keep you awake
The enemies are dead
Or so they said
And yet I see you here
The holder of my greatest fear
My enemies are near
I see then very clear
My guilt is gone,
As I have fixed a wrong
I have carried them
Up up up that hill
Now you too
Shall carry them with you.
There are children
Rottin’ in this coffin
Two to a box they said
Carry them up they said
There are skulls, with souls
They linger in my fingers
This is right they said
Carry them they said
And so I did
I carried these souls
Up, up, up, This mountain
In their stead
One, two, three, four,
How many more?
How much can I take?
I feel their ache.
Snow, rain, heat, hail,
I know one day that I will fail
I only hope I can make,
Someone else bear their ‘sake
It is not my guilt
It is my rage
You will not lie for their crimes
It will keep you awake
The enemies are dead
Or so they said
And yet I see you here
The holder of my greatest fear
My enemies are near
I see then very clear
My guilt is gone,
As I have fixed a wrong
I have carried them
Up up up that hill
Now you too
Shall carry them with you.