Last Words


Before you throw me to my death

from your high and scornful tower,

just remember that certain things will always be true:

half of us are used like mules

to carry the others into oblivion;

we don’t know if the world’s first sound was

a groan

a sigh

a cry of joy

of pain

of hope;

if you throw a rock

a thousand times, it will never learn to fly;

somewhere the same men in the same uniforms

come alive the next morning

and fight again until cold night falls.

Published in Abridged

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