For those left living torment waits
More terrible than that which
Barred the gates of Eden with the shameful sword.
They shall suffer the children
Disquietly borne
To carry the sores
And stigmata of fire
That burns in the heart
Of their very bones
To He who would heal them.
Eyes blinded by a terrible truth
Skin charred and blood undone
Betrayed by the errors
Of their elders;
Not ten thousand folded cranes
Nor the shrouds and the ashes
Of ten million regrets
Shall reclaim the shards
Of the innocent heart.
Stones surely must wail
Tears are torn from the clouds
And the lonesome winds mourn
The tale of fear and forlorn pain
Endured by a child who hopes in vain.