God, I once saw your face,
in the burning corpse of a child.
The incense of flesh, your fragrance,
haunts my senses, my memory,
God, I saw the pieces of your creation
posed in scattered blasted bits, blood of life.
They spilled across the jungle green
a backdrop to my constant dreams.
God, I heard the cries for you,
in the hell of cordite and hot metal.
Prayers to you to help, to heal
to stop the pain, the hurt, the madness.
God, you did not answer or care,
you turned your back, hid your face.
Death hypocrite, unanswered plea for life,
unanswered, silent, apocalyptic deaf mute .
Copyright: 2008, Donald Harbour
Thoughts disappear in writing like this, all that is left is emotion. Deep sadness and pain with a strong feeling of being alone and lost. I (strangely) enjoyed the connection.
This is loaded, I imagine war is the nearest thing to hell that man can create.
this is stark and powerful
So powerful, inspiring such outrage, anger, pain. Especially moving today. I don’t know who God is conceived as being, that so much horror can be perpetrated in his name.
This is incredible. “Apocalyptic deaf mute” will stay with me for a long time.
Ouch. That’s going to drag my day down a little.
Good job. (Take that any way you like 😉