Absence
written by: Winelady
“God is dead,” I whispered once,
But no—”God is alive,” they cry.
Alive, they say, to the girl who runs,
As wolves howl hunger beneath the sky.
“God is alive,” they scream at her,
While fear claws at her fleeting breath.
Alive, they claim, as shadows blur,
And every step feels close to death.
“God is alive,” they murmur soft,
To the mother bleeding, cold and torn,
Her unborn child held aloft,
By hands that never will be born.
“God is alive,” they chant with pride,
While starving children line the street,
Eyes like wells where hope has died,
And broken hands beg crumbs to eat.
“God is alive,” they shout and pray,
But where does He reside tonight?
Is he in the silence? weeping, far away,
Or in the hell fire, lost to sight, Hiding behind his sins?
