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[08 Nov 2005|10:53pm] |
Heaven Help The Sinner
By Mushroom
My lover and I roamed the winding halls
Together, before his departure.
My heart could barely breathe, smiles
Twisted in avoidance of the subject:
A war beyond the barricades
Called for by authorities, who
never attended battles of their own.
He smiled and laughed and squeezed;
An obvious display of hollow mirth.
As the ships sailed west I heard
Pathetic wails of children, mothers
Embracing their sons and husbands goodbye
Squeezing back, I remembered who they were;
The faces that frowned at my summer days.
Soon everyone knelt down to pray
Deafeningly to their deities while someone
prepared their tombstones, written with ease;
Date of death, of birth.
I looked up at the skies myself, and
Tried to speak to his Savior
Imagining countless blueberry-lipped angels
Lifting him up, asking the One
For another chance, that He
Recognize him.
And I wrapped my arms round myself, thus
wishing for my man comfort, presence
in the warmth of a hearth.
Is there a God for us?
He was returned to me, drenched in blood,
meaning
God punished him to almost-death.
No, it was not God…it was their God.
Holding my lover in my arms, weeping
I could hear him speak of our fate:
“There’s a place in Hell for us to stay
Not here…not Heaven nor Earth.”
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