Respective perspectives worshiping directives - blindly killing for our dogma, until our sons meet in the garden. Torches scald the night sky; the youth rise up and set their elders to the gallows. Fire in the lighthouse: All our advances, a spark away from conflagration.
In the night I saw you fall, oh wicked star, illuminate our hate, show us who we really are.
Books were burned away - only swords remained. The prophets died for peace, stabbed by preying priests. As the wise man said I'll keep my heart and lose my head. Without a neck how can I sink with a millstone to the bottom of the sea? The bottom of the sea - and I’m finding the violence - it looks like me.
Singing songs of life when all we know is death. A world of orphans left empty-handed. If love’s a sin I’ll become a heretic.
Recurring intervention: Framing the narrative to cleanse our tainted conscience.
Harvesting destruction: Reaping the sow from weapons planted in the soil.
Terrified little son, encumbered by your sword, you can hide your fear but won’t shed the sheer weight of your own humanity - humanity. You can face me towards the mountains where I meet our Mother’s gaze. Too blinded by this hatred to recognize your brother’s face.
Singing songs of life when all we know is death. A world of orphans left empty-handed.
I’ll collapse - head parting from my weary shoulders - seeds of life spilling from my palms. Subverting love will take hold in this hateful soil; my blood is the water. Inshallah, Shalom. Love will take hold.
