A Lament


My God,
Oh, My God.

I cry out for my country torn,
Turning eyes,
With hardened hearts,
Of greed and hatred,
Human pride.

When will we turn?
With hearts of love,
Toward one another,
Justice on our mind.

When will our hearts,
Be satisfied?
To reach toward another,
Be reconciled?

To tear down walls,
Put away our guns,
Celebrate our colors,
Recognize we’re sons.

Daughters too,
Of a great Creator,
You too have died.

There are too many shrines,
Too many martyrs,
Too many tombs,
Too many unknown.

Too many names,
Too many stories,
When will we quit marring,
The image of your beauty.

So many have paid,
A heavy price,
And I believe,
You hear their blood cries.

So my God, speak your truth,
Make us face our deep wound.
Show your mercy,
Set us free.

And my God, my God,
Begin with me.

© John A Taylor, 2015

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