The pews run in lines, we kneel and they cry.
We answer the chorus and rise to their song.
The children are sleeping, the bullets have sung –
The anthem of country, written in blood.
Blessed and offered, preserved in our cups.
Sipped and passed on, we hope it’s enough –
But it never runs dry, the stream runs to slaughter.
We watch as they die, and hope that their God heard.
A sacred communion, bread gives to flesh,
As they polish their guns, and take them to bed.
We open our mouths and say the same words,
Now, there is no one to hold, no wick left to burn.
Our future is dying, they are dying unheard.
Their lives are cut short, our futures are dimming.
They die when it’s time, not meant to keep living.
“There is a reason for everything” – no reason to fight.
God has a purpose, and men have their rights.
Poem by Eva Granger, 19