I watched the dead bury their dead
In the graveyard of the fallen city.
In the churchyard, desecrated, stood a tree,
Once high and lofty (just like me)
But now bent over in solemn prayer
Without a pitiful cry to escape its lips.
I watched as the city of tall buildings,
Tall as trees, reaching to God,
Crumbled beneath the weight of heaven;
And casket after casket, full,
Tottered past. I watched,
And the dead buried their dead.

I stood on a narrow road, alone.
The same cold wind that blew
Through the broken windows of the crumpled city,
Laid low like a widow weeping--
The same wind blew across my face
And covered me with the ashes of the beloved city:
The people, the buildings, the trees,
The generations (just like me)
All lined up inside caskets.
And I, on my narrow road, alone,
Watched atop a hill as the dead buried their dead.