She is hunting us down and will not fail
Sins of the fathers visited upon sons
No place left to hide, nowhere to run
Bodies in ovens, imprisoning children
Denying the order once we’ve killed them
It will catch us in fields of mass graves
Point out the bloodied hand holding the
blade
Poison the water where the healthy drank
Mark the place where the refugees sank
She will dig up the bones of the millions
dead
And hang them like baubles above our beds
We will run through rivers to confuse our
scent
These rivers are blood, yet she will not
relent
In our dreams where we conquer, kill and
maim
She will snap at our heels and breathe her
name
There is no forgetting in the court of the
future
History is our judge, jury and executioner
She is our conscience, that constant itch
She is our master, and we are her bitch
© shaun patrick green 2014
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