Amen.

We kill. We slaughter.
We hurt. We cause pain.
We die. Our blood spills.
We feel pain. Our action stills.

We remain possessed.
With hatred, with darkness
No room for kindness.
The madness ensues victorious.
Bold in its existence.
In our space.
Sacred, sacred place.

Innocents lost.
For reasons they'd never know.
For reasons we'd never understand.
In the name of what? At what cost?

A conspiracy comes through.
Whispers of rationale.
Possibilities of justification.
For the blood, the lives, the bodies.
The bodies. Of children, women and men.

We live in between wars.
Bloodshed is a habit, an addiction.
We know no other way to create history.
Or her story. Our story.

We kill. we slaughter.
We hurt. We cause pain.
We die. Our blood spills.
We feel pain. Our action stills.

‍‍‍Ready? Set? Go. Again.

Amen.

Amen.

IN BETWEEN

Mountains of shell cases on the roadside near the front lines, the contents of which had been fired into the German lines during World War I. (Credit: Tom Aitken/National Library of Scotland)

‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍WARS‍‍‍

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