Excuses

As I rise from my grave,
The place you had thought of
As my eternal resting place,
I see you turn pale with shock
Mumbling inextinguishable words.

Excuses flowing out of your mouth
As a river races
To leave behind the mountain
That gifted him with life.

Because you know the question
That rules my mind and heart,
That forces me to return
To the cold, bloody world
That I thought I'd left forever.

Was the fight worth my death?
Mine, and all those others,
Whose corpses still scatter the fields,
Unrecognizable skulls and bones
Soon to be buried without a name.

Of course, you answer,
Not once meeting my eyes.
The fight was important
To reach the aim, that big aim
We all struggled to reach.

Tell me, what aim? I ask
With an ironic, deathly smile
For we both know the truth:
There was no aim but war,
No aim but death and blood
Caused by revenge and hatred,
Feelings of those who never once
Stepped onto the battlefields.

Again your mouth opens,
Moving to your excuses,
Words that I don't want to hear.

I laugh, a laugh as cold
And as dead as I am.
I see, I say, you have no answer,
No words to justify my pain.
I can't change that anymore.

But then, at least, promise me:
Promise you won't forget me,
Nor my comrades, all those who fell,
Like me, never to breathe again.

Do not forget. Not our pain,
Not our suffering,
And not our sacrifice.

Promise. Promise that you won't forget.