Were those my people's dwellings
that in the stoneland lie?
They are now a dwindled vestige
changed by the hands of Time.
There did I halt my camel
to question what remained,
But turned away with tears
gushing from my eyes
In streams as though my lids
that moment had burst forth
The downpour of a cloud
from winter-laden skies.
Oh mine was once the kindest
of ordinary peoples
To all who had fallen captive
or ill, or on hard times,
Good when they drew lots
for camel-meat when winds
Blew winter-hard, and neighbors
united as a tribe.
And when the moment called for thrusts
they always did
Color their spears from tip
to shaft in the grim dye.
And when the moment called for blades
they always did
Beat back the foe as lions
protective of their pride.
And when they heard the call "Dismount!"
they always rushed
In coats of mail on foot
headlong into the fight.
They are gone. I am still here
but I am not forever.
Change is the fate of things,
the many shades of life.
God knows what I know not
about the end they met.
What I have is remembrance
of things lost in their time.