Friday, October 10, 2008

The Lone Savior

What carnage is sufficient to cause pause,
jiggle conscience, birth an ideological hiccup,
provoke a holy poke in the eye?
Frozen, unblinking, afraid to breathe,
our noses sample air for scent of blood in water.
Timid buzzards, we circle the crime scene,
fearful, yet drawn,
unable to process the grizzly sight;
so troubled by sacrificial love.

Copyright (c) 2004 Gary Brown

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