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To the pillar of San Jose
—a memory built under the relentless sun,
dainty as the town it guarded,
proud as the hearts of the people who built it
—I have my last words to offer.

To the pillar of San Jose
—a beacon broken down by rains,
swept to the shore of a foreign land
by storms unprecedented
—I only look to you for who you are,
not what you have been.

To the pillar of San Jose,
who stood against trial after trial
—a dauntless display of strength
against the threats of the world—
I have the last chance at life to offer.

But to the pillar of San Jose,
whose destiny ran out before I spoke,
whose courage was repaid with blood,
I can only offer my silence;
my meaningless words I can throw to the wind
as I watch the pillar of San Jose
lay in ruins under open fire,
too far for me to save,
and too heavy for me to bear.

To the pillar of San Jose
who should have stood tall towards the end.
I offer you my farewell; my best words
I will say, but you will never hear.

To the pillar of San Jose,
for leaving you alone in the darkest night
lit with flashes of death and crushed bones,
for tying your feet to the ground
of thorns and demons from hell,
for pushing you towards the greedy tongues
of corrupted souls crawling from shore
—I am sorry.

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