The seventh cross

Here we march through the snow, here we lie in the mud.
The wind aches like a thousand on my skin, my walk mechanic.
My thoughts far away, unable to act, feel numb to the distress.
I can't remember freedom, forgot all faces I loved.
No cry for help through the wire,
my existence a number on my skin.
It will take all my power, my last will to live.
I hear the sirens.
Searching lights roam through the night, reports,
bloodhounds and hunters – orders are clear,
our tombs already dug.
Our names on the crosses.
I'm running, no looking back, no feelings at all, will I be free?
Will I be free at last?
Will I ever kiss your face again?
The sun will be mine again and I'll feel the rain,
feelings return from my body.
I can't believe that I'm still alive.
Now I remember your face, your words, your smile.