For my mother and father,
for Kathy and Greg,
and for Ann
And the dead will be thrown out like dung,
and there will be no one to offer comfort.
For the earth will be left empty and its
cities will be torn down. None will be left
to till the ground and sow it. The trees
will bear fruit, but who will gather it?
The grapes will ripen, but who will tread them?
There will be vast desolation everywhere.
For one man will long to see another, or to
hear his voice. For ten will be left, out of
a city, and two, out of a field, who have
hidden in the thick woods or in holes in the rocks.