The Rock-cut Tomb
from my high-hanging view
amidst the hill of skulls.
You laid my shrouded body
upon a pedestal, and carried me
to the still mines by the city wall.
There you laid my broken body
on a stone slab, but I didn't fit.
With rough hands you bound my arms
and sawed off my bleeding feet
to tailor me in the confines of the tomb.
The solemn chants claim that
I died for you, echoing off
the ancient quarry walls.
I'm missing, you say,
but you don't remember where you buried me.