Sheep graze on the hill below Montsegur
Not far from where the martyrs prayed
The shepherd does not wonder much
about the place: he knows. He says:
‘It was after all my friends and family
‘who died in flames before the dogs.
‘I still retain no love for catholics.
‘I am cathar. My life is in these hills.
‘I sometimes, when the sheep are grazing
‘walk into the citadel and early in the morning
‘when the dew is fresh and air is crisp
‘I can hear the whispering, and these poor souls
‘surround you, telling of the horror
‘and the martyrdom the goodmen faced.’
Copyright (c) 1992 Klaus J. Gerken