Slowly went off the flames of the light
Casting shadows of a heart-breaking sight.
She cried in a broken desperation
because it seemed she and her inhabitants were left to die
In the ugly claws of rejection so she stared in fear
Doom seemed near
While in a deep slumber were God’s own tabernacles
Snoring aloud, head supported by feeble ankles.
In an alarming stillness, she thought them dead
Because all that blurred her vision was red
If only they knew
That her cities were ruined
Her buildings laid desolate, home crushed;
Cries of distress, a blasting tune
Her men in tortured labor, had begun to split up caves
Making spaces to dig up their own graves
If only they knew her enemy!
The man of guile had seized and plagued their streets
Leaving them with shuddering teeth that only grits
All that is left are weary souls grasping for breath
Earnestly longing for an easeful death
So with everyday becoming night
They are weary, white out of plight
Despite the surging wave of thick darkness
There lay no hope of light
Crazy!
She couldn’t understand why!
Were they not the saviors?
Who were supposed to build up the waste places?
The army meant to raise the foundation of many generations?
To repair the breach and restore streets for dwelling in as said the Lord
Through the mouth of prophet Isaiah?
For whom does she wait?
Achan or Zechariah?
Would they leave her in darkness and cold?
Their power and authority exchanged for insatiable vaults
Pleasures and filth the price to the devil they had sold?
Children of God indeed they are
She weeps at the hallowness of their claims
Because right from the beginning the scripture never said it so!
An unbearable shame even as my own tears comes afloat
I weep for a creation whose earnest expectation of manifestation
Is exchanged with devastation.
Christ a poet 