martyrs

Gustaf Munch-Petersen: The Lowest Country

you, who cowed your mouths –,

forced your eyes outwards –,

I too

love you,

who first turned the whip

against own dreams

and said: lay down!

and then stretched the sword

over

the small and fallen

towards the large and cheeky –,

forgetting own tears

for others’ suffering –

I love you –

 

o that you might live

till they,

whom you now give bread

come to crave

also your dreams and your tears –,

and you can lose the whip

and give everything –