A Bombers Prayers.

The people are fictional
in the bombers book,
only his soul matters
in the short run of fuse,
they are shadows cast
into the Spanish earth,
mere symbols of Satan
conjured from prayers.

Each life pushed off
the heart's agenda
by pain & humiliation,
each pure white bead
pushed along a string
in praise of a prophet
of peace is marbled red
by the blood of Madrid.

The people are fictional
in the Texan's rule book,
only power matters
in their wars long run,
they are collateral left
by the road side of Iraq,
damage limitation unlimited
by wealth's ill-gotten good.

Each life crossed off
the Christians' list
by white self-worship.
Each black bead
pushed along a string
in praise of a prophet
of peace is marbled
red by the blood
of all the innocent,
of Iraq and Madrid
of New York & Bali.

The bombers prayers
slip from their threads,
black & white beads
fall from broken faiths,
gold colours the day
and America sleeps.



John G.Hall(c)2004