The House on the Hill

The war criminal Ratko Mladic, convicted by the International Criminal Court of directing the massacre of 8,000 Bosnian Muslims at Srebrenica in 1995, has died in prison at the age of 83. The Balkan wars of the 1990s were a harrowing reminder to the post-Cold War world that mankind’s capacity for unspeakable cruelty was seemingly inexhaustible, and that for the Eastern European nations emerging from Communism, futures as brutal as the past were hardly unimaginable. Below are the lyrics to a song I wrote in the summer of 1995, aghast at the news from Srebrenica.

The House on the Hill
July 14, 1995

Well the troops marched into Srebrenica early.
I thought the footsteps were the last part of my dream.
Got up, looked out my window, it was sunny.
But sometimes things aren’t as sunny as they seem.

I’d been dreamin’ of myself in some big city,
saw a mannequin and it looked a lot like me.
He’s a well-
dressed 
gentlemen, 
but can’t seem to do a thing.
Put him in rags, and he’s a lot like me.

I’m in chains today, but once
I fought for my country.
They killed my wife in ’93,
I came back to care for my son.
As I live through this day, gotta keep myself 
from sinnin’
with the thought that he who dies first 
is always the lucky one.

I know my sweet girl would be wanting me to live
and live right,
so standin’ proud as a prisoner can, I won’t let my soul give in.
But they took my boy away from me this morning.
Marched us in two separate columns 
to the House on the Hill

The sun shines bright on the House on the Hill
where as a boy I longed to be,
where the government officials
had their mistresses for tea.
Well, I’ve finally arrived here,
imagine, me, a country boy.
But please forgive me, 
Mr. Karadzic, 
If I can’t respond with joy.
in this House on the Hill.

Interrogation on the House on the Hill.
If they decide to kill me,
and they probably will,
remember me as a family man
who perished ’cause the neighbors 
coveted his land
and who fought to try to keep the demons at bay,
but whose bare hands couldn’t keep them away.
If I die, I’ll die proud; I know I will
when they put the lights out
in the House on the Hill. 

– Greg Blake Miller