An eternal scream, ragged, raw
rises from the very floor
a despairing roar of misery
from the echo chamber
of history
Where now is the god you trust
in his house, or somehow lost -
a bullet fired into his head
a bullet
in the temple, dead
Kneel for worship,
kneel for death
the dividing line was never less
in this wholly,
unholy mess
Will you live to carry on
caring for the blinded son,
or perish in the next pogrom -
as others die in ecstasy
cursing your apostasy?
Will someone, somewhere
drop the Bomb,
let Mankind
face
what he has become...?
Stephen A. Roberts