Museum of the Revolution

Heroes of the Revolution! Martyrs. Comrades. Citizens.

Idle visitors, we came, we saw, and wondered
at a single – standard – flame in memory,
and shabby relics set in spare and dingy rooms,
the stiff and formal typescripts of a forgotten war,

fading photographs in sepia, evoking aging
earnest memories of those who sorely fought
against the unrelenting wicked tyrants
(as captions plainly say, in black and white);

through dirt and hunger, thirst and bloody sweat,
they died for dearly-held ideals (and doctrines,
self-evident but enforced by discipline),
in home-made raids and desperate little actions

(for positions since abandoned, on command);
events that once had meaning, but hold nothing for us now.
Yet their struggles, when you and I were born,
determined why things became the way they are….

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