Bend the moment upon me.
Steer my heart to mend my soul.
Force the truth to boldly stand that I may feel its hold.
What of this hate enflamed in cause that steals the youth from ancient lives?
What merciless torture waits beyond the face of hatred’s eyes?
I stand in solidarity, but frozen to this day remain.
Can I not move to change the fabric of what this hatred’s lain?
Are words in rage and anger torn upon this page enough?
Is something deep within this well rising ‘gainst the rough
and calloused turn of man that through his selfish rage is born?
Is there nothing here to stem this growth of ancient hatred sworn?
My God! My God! What is this hell that from this heaven’s shore is breached?
Can love return upon the soil where blood was spilled, by God beseeched?
No faith I’ve lost, believe me, but how I can stand still
when through the acts of cowardice we’re forced another bitter pill?
Love, I cry, it’s love say I, that stems the hatred left in wake,
but seems to drift to hollow halls that such these shadows make.
So I pray… for peace,
for some greater understanding,
for hope of resurrection born from all our souls, demanding.
One response to “For Paris, For Us”
I share your pessimism these days.. also in the reaction afterwards.