Spartacus Remembers Rome Here, on the cross, I remember Rome, Not as the bringer of peace, Not for the Plebs, under Glaberus, Or the Knights on their Senate seats, Not for the legions of Crassus, Nor for Caesar's eloquent speech, Not for their pneumonous power, Which can even Germania reach, But for all the staring babies And the rickety bodies whose space Is confined to a grave of nothing As the starve in their quiet place. I can see the whole of the Palantine From this painful, hanging hill. As I think of their violence and murder, I am rent with a piercing chill. They do not see the suffering Of my all too human eyes, But, instead, watch the soaring eagle's course, As it navigates the skies. And like that raptor, they cast cold looks Upon their barbarian prey, And never a pang of pity feel For the millions already slain. I was a fighter to entertain, A fighter unto death, But really I passed quite a while ago As I never took free breath. Carl Estrin
Spartacus' last thoughts on the cross.