Chaff
When the crop is safely gathered in
When the valued grains are pulled away
Then we are straw, and we are only chaff
Forced to live upon the gleanings and the leavings
When the creamy cheese has formed its curds
When the butter has been turned and churned
Then we are whey, and we are poured away
Fit for only cattle and for pigs
When the fruit is picked and carried home
When the trees have been emptied of their bounty
Then we are leaves, and we are broken twigs
Not even worth the sweeping
When the bread is risen and has been baked
When the loaves are shared and sliced
Then we are crumbs, and we are but dusting flour
Cleared from the table into the bin
When the beer is brewed and well fermented
When the casks of ale are drunk and emptied
Then we are lees, and we are only ullage
Poured away and down the drain
And when the fires burn our dwellings
And when the towers turn to charnel-houses
Then we are ash, and we are only cinders
The residue, the forgotten of society
And when the screams of death have faded
And when the desperate shouting’s fallen quiet
Then we are but an echo, just a faint vibration
Of a voice that no-one ever heard
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