If all you care about
Is multiplying
Then you stand to keep
Dividing
The flesh from feeling
While your women and children are reeling
From the split
And the pain of it.
Echoes of this pain
Bounce from those sterile
Walls
Inside their
Small,
Small,
World
Which you’ve constructed
While their spirits you’ve obstructed.
God cannot be mocked -
Why did you even try
While making hundreds cry
Out for a tunnel
Out from their
El
Dorado Hell?
The ranks of the horrified swell
While the reporters tell
How you reduced precious souls
To nothing
Over something
Called religion.

Written 4/9/08
© 2008 Nicole Nicholson. All Rights Reserved.