So this is the nightmare world of healing.
Weary of my labours in this hideous world,
I rest in this hospital wall. Kneeling
As they tamp the concrete blanket
Snug under my chin.
Do those who will one day sit beneath
Know my everlasting presence here?
Protected as I am from war and grief,
Will they feel the emptiness that my decaying
Body leaves within?
But I am loosed from this tyranny of hate
And hard labour for a dreadful end,
So while my efforts stand I shall be sealed by fate,
Held in this fatal freedom’s concrete cage,
No more a slave.
I shall not die, but I shall live
Forever in the mind and in this wall.
For all the protection it will give
I will be here in everlasting death. It is my hope
When you walk these tunnels, walk this fear.
Think of those men like you who built this place,
And those like me who are still here.
We are the silent prophets of mankind’s hate.
© Martin Porter 1995