Death Marches

by Nikolaos Hlamides

O beloved Mother Anatolia,
Torn from your trusted bosom
and banished to your arid plains,
we began a journey to our end.

By night we slept
shelterless upon the winter snow
By day we walked
scorched by the summer's blaze.
Stripped and ravished,
We walked, we walked.

Young and old were first to fall
Corpses strewn along our path
Unburied they remained.
Weak and thirsty,
We walked, we walked.

With destination near, our fate was here.
Desert wastelands no mercy did you spare
for those Christian souls
who once wept with fear.