a poem

[Lux of the Agony]

It is not the word we want,

and yet it’s spoken;

as nails into the hands & feet,

of our Lord.

As stitch,

to sew;

the wound within his side.

Love & mercy know no boundary,

except the call for justice;

As heralds to the virgin’s choir,

requesting testimony to our frailty;

we bend & prostrate,

at the name of Jesus Christ.

There is light,

inflaming the darkness,

igniting a pyre for a funeral dirge,

but there is no sorrow to be found,

for those,

whose bodies are as fuel,

for Auschwitz.

The horrors of World War II,

give testimony of the evil,

that our generation is capable of.

Speak peace. Live peace. Be peace.