A free-verse lamentation…


Bombs fly, bodies fall and blood, flooding empty streets, quickly turns cold; so, too, in veins of the terrorized – refugees, with tear-streaked faces and muffled sobs, choking on the acrid spittle of their sorrow and anger, running west for cover.

And those who author this violence, with vainest rationalizations of the arrogance of their will to power, seek to fool the world, yet first themselves that they can justify killing, thus, living without love.

Kyrie eleison, Christe eleison, Kyrie eleison. Amen.

© 2022 PRA

Categories poetry, prayer, suffering, warTags ,

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