When my tribe rises,
I will not be there.
When they hoist the flags,
and draw their swords,
I will not be there.
When they play their pipes
and shout their oaths,
I will not be there.
When they call on their gods
and strike their chests,
willing their demons
to leave the dark dens,
I will not be there.
When the slayer’s songs
ring out in the hills
and victory burnishes
its dented, bloody shield,
I will not be there.
And then, when they are
finally tired of their war,
and fall like the dead
into their weary beds,
I will not be there.

I will not be there.