When the knife is raised

When the knife is raised

The gun is fired

The voice silenced

In a welter of cruelty

A wail of partizan

Approbation

Sanctimony

Shows no remorse

When the rope is hung

From the highest branch

There is little sign

Of a broad church

Bodies bloated

With the ripe stench

Of hate

Dripping onto the earth

Red with the blood

Of the fallen

The innocent

The newborn

Barely weaned

The peacemaker

The old man bent in prayer

The widowed

Cast down on their knees

In supplication

Collateral damage

In a war of attrition

I yearn for pluralism

The civility

Of vigorous disagreement

With rules of engagement

Equally applied

And adhered to

We part as friends

What chance

Have I

To see such worldly wonders

Pass this way again.