Transcendental Sonnet #982:
Beslan

Our little ones at dusk have lain to rest
Slain by the very worst the very best
Of us the rest of us can only grieve

The world has gone insane and piety
Become blood-lust for blood-satiety
Of those who in the name of God believe
Our world must die who nothing understand

The hand of God holds neither bomb nor gun
The hand of God was your own little hand
The dark has come upon us has begun

But your blood cries out to us from the ground
Our little ones in your names now shall rise
A call to life to turn from death around
Our lives for yours for light against the lies

*~ ( + ) ~*

+Steven Curtis Lance

Copyright MMIV Silke LLC

Steven

The hand of God holds your hand I am sure, as you are guided to write such profound and touching words in this wonderful form, the sonnet.

Krieg ist die schlimmste Krankheit.....