SCI-FI/FANTASY Poem: Resurrect Me No More, by David Gray

When the far-cast comes, asking, “How did she die?”
Tell the old men, “Well enough, on the airless plain,
Bravely, on an orbital with scarce a cry,
Choking, in the cyanide highlands with unbearable pain,
Bitterly, holding a shearing blade,
With a curse, overrun by smart killing ships,
Gasping with relief when she felt life fade,
With a prayer to be left to sleep, on her cold blue lips.”

When they clamor to know how many lives,
Did I give and was given to give again,
Tell them, “Twenty times a hundred so that others could be wives,
And mothers who know the birthing pain,
Twenty times a hundred born and buried,
In the name of a homeworld long forgotten,
Life squandered and death hurried,
For a cause misbegotten.”

When they demand, “Why did she spurn miraculous rebirth?”
Tell them, “You have a galaxy of blood on your hands,
Spilled by women denied their dotage before the hearth,
Sent to alien worlds and strange lands,
To perish again, in diamond mud and indigo blood amid hand-chatter and mind-yammers,
To wake retching and weak, born anew to ride the star-linking Wires,
Ambushing dubious foes to rain lightning and raise crimson banners,
Kindling entire planets to unquenchable fires.”

Should they demand their general’s final words, gasped, whispered or shouted,
To be read to and unheard on indolent Earth,
Tell them, “She railed, persisted, and at the limit of all we conquered, doubted,”
Recount my verdict, delivered among the drifts of bones, that “These far stars have no worth,
Not for me, not for you, no debt owed, for the blood of a billion conquered foes,
For the memory of doomed daughters, sent carelessly away,”
To endure endless short lives of infinite woes,
And die without end so you may see another day.”

When the far-cast comes, summoning fresh recruits to the wall,
Daughters scarce out of childhood,
Tell them I said, “No more will come in answer your call,
Sisters eager to satisfy your murderous mood,
Tell them “She chose the cleansing pyre,
So her end was a signal to every world you bleed,
A refusal to serve, writ in fire,
And end to resurrection, as a final deed.”
ENDS