Oh what do we owe
to the ghosts
of time to come?
What a weight of things undone
or done to their detriment
when nothing could be enough.
Oh when they come calling
out of the dark
on high bat-voices,
What can we offer,
who are their valiant past
and let them down?
What can we give to give them voice
when they come swarming like moths?
The revenants of future time.
All is theirs already
our words, our world,
our blood, our DNA.
