A Sense Of Tragedy


Turn your eyes
towards
our pain
I beg of you
look look
see what you
yes you
not your God
have done

Wash your hands
in
not of
our blood
feel feel
sense the hate
you yes you
not your God
glorify

Come close,
listen
to the whisper
of our fear
hear hear
the cry of justice
you yes you
not your God
have stilled

Smell our flesh
life’s fragrance gone
shame's odour clings
smell smell
the rankness
of tarnished faith
you yes you
not your God
have betrayed

Taste the fetid air
choking hope
savour love’s despair
taste taste
the spice of hate
the salt with which
you yes you
not your God
have seasoned death

Sense the senselessness
of your act
see feel hear our loss
think think
we are your sons
your daughters, who
you yes you
God help you
have destroyed