et in Elsinore ego

The wind with wide sweeping arms
cradles the weary on the great open plain.
The tired eyes fix upon the crashing columns of basalt
and their trembling hands
wipe the tears of regret and shame with a dirty sleeve.
Having lost a million brothers,
and two million sisters
since yesterday
they can only break camp, and,
hoisting their belongings on a shoulder,
bear further into the realm of sunlight that the future grants.