By Damon L. Wakes
We remember when you dug us from the riverbank, but we forgive you. The water was cold and the people had need of us.
We remember when you divided and shaped us, but we forgive you. We were without form and the people had need of us.
We remember when you put us in flames, but we forgive you. We were soft and the people had need of us.
We recall the day when you sent us against swords. This we forgive. The people had need of us: we would not desert them when foes were near.
We remember when you broke us with hammers. Even this we forgive. The battle was won, and the people had no more need of us.
But though shattered, we remained on the hillside, for no people came to sweep the shards away. This too we forgive, for our eyes remained littering the ground and it allowed us to see.
We saw you crowned and we rejoiced though our own heads were shattered. We saw rings on your fingers and we applauded though our own hands were lost. We saw robes on your shoulders and we were glad, though our own backs were broken. We saw your image raised in the square and we were happy, for though we were given no such thanks, yours was sculpted from clay and in that we saw our likeness. These things we saw and these things pleased us, scattered though we were.
But fired eyes do not close if they are not swept away, and we saw too things which did not please us. We saw that crown shine upon your brow while the faces of the people became lined with care. We saw the fat bulge beneath those rings while the fingers of the people became calloused and bony. We saw the splendour of that robe grow while the clothes of the people wore to threads. We saw your image in the square and knew that the tyrant had claimed the city, though the bones of him and all his men rested amongst us on the hillside. These things we saw and these things we do not forgive.
We know that a foe is near and so, though shattered, we stand. We are cold once more, but the people need us. We are without form once more, but the people need us. We are broken now, but the people need us. Claymind and kilnheart, we stand once more, marching on the city we would protect.
We will dig you from your palace.
We will divide you from your wealth.
We will bring the flames of the people’s anger.
We will send you to the swords of the river’s flow.
We will break you to pieces.
And the people will not know to thank us, for we will sweep away the shards.