(By Poetreader)
November 15, 2008. I guess the wars and petty hates of the world have got to me. I was sitting at home on a quiet evening, without any morose thoughts on the surface of my mind. Suddenly, out of nowhere came the first line and the compulsion to write this piece. I very strongly did not want to write it, but line after line was wrenched out of my soul, and I had to finish it. The further I wrote, the less I wanted to write it, and, truly, doing so was intensely painful. It had to come, I really had no choice but to write it, but, the title says it all. . .
I Hate This Poem
The corpses lie where you left them,
spread across the sands beneath the burning sun,
lying intermingled in the place where they once walked,
where they breathed and thought and laughed and loved,
lying breathless in the swirling dust,
lying lifeless as the buzzards come to feast,
lying in the mindless triumph of the way of death,
as the air fills with mourning,
and tears mingle with the pools of blood,
and joy and hope and celebration are no more,
their voices drowned in oceans of mad wailing,
in the empty keening of the hearts of love bereft,
and there they lie, the corpses where you left them,
where you dropped them when you had removed the life,
discarding all the dreams of things that might have been,
casting lovers and their love into the pits of hate,
and stealing gentle passion from the ones now left behind,
an offering to dread Mars the cruel god of war,
a sacrifice of ugliness to him whose radiance is dark light,
denial of the goodness that was placed below
the image of the brightness of the everlasting One,
whom you deny with sword and gun and bomb and lies of hate.
and still they lie, those corpses that you left to rot,
and you must look upon the works of your own hands,
and weep, lament, and wail in anguished sorrow deep,
and know the depth of horror you have brought to be.
Lament, repent, and seek release that you've not earned,
admit the dreadful pox that has consumed your soul,
and die within that you might live, and living strive to right the wrong,
the wrong that never in this world can be erased,
but can perhaps be caused to turn some hearts from evil ways,.
and lead to peace, the peace that you have so well denied.
They lie in the dust.
Remember: in remorse now turn your steps.
Renounce the darkness that so long has filled your soul.
Turn to the light and to the One who gave His life for light.
Leave the paths of death and now serve life.
Poetreader
