I hope you did not hear me call your name
In the middle of the night,
When darkness fell too heavily upon my shoulders
For me to bear its weight alone.
I pray you did not witness my weakness
In the crimson dawn,
So weary was I from the waiting
That I wept as light flooded the valley.
I wonder if you saw my fall
In the strange noon-day shadows,
And if the glint of the guillotine will remain, ghost-like,
In your memory, at night, when silence surpasses all sound,
In the dark, when the weight of your guilt falls too heavily upon your shoulders
For you to bear its weight without praying for redemption,
But I cannot yet forgive,
And you will shoulder the blame as Atlas upheld the Heavens,
Weary, and with much regret.
I hope you’ll hear me calling, then, and
I pray you’ll remember my moment of triumph –
You know the one –
And one day, when night falls and our Kingdom comes,
You’ll hear the music of wild, feral drums, and
The darkness shall be lifted by the foreign light of ten thousand distant suns.