A baby to be raped?
A child to kill a child?
Who's god kills?
Not mine.
Believe if you must:
That's fine.
Books bound in dust:
Between the lust
Of saints and sinners,
Prophets and losses,
Accounts of merit,
Pity the senate.
Who's god's will
Denies the dinners
To starving folk?
You think some bloke
(in robes or clothes)
Can convince me of that?
Fat or thin:
What's your sin?
From skin-and bone wide-eyed fear
To a war-raped daughter: tell me, dear, of your god's will:
You can rant or whisper,
Words that missed
Her shrapnel-scarred
Empty-now shard of was-foetus.
Meet us in church/mosque/shul/temple/you name the place
To proclaim the dis-grace
Of your god's will.
Believe if you must:
In god we trust.
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