Send Them Your Dawn, O Lord

By Lawrence “Mack in Texas” Hall

We repudiate Putin and all his works
And all his pomps and all his engines of death
And all his malignant servile orcs
Who crucify humanity with lies

We are both Marys, Nicodemus, Joseph of Arimathea
We bring the holy bodies of the sacrifice
To Your Garden Tomb; we await Your dawn
Baptizing with our tears this darkest night

We have nothing to offer in our desolation
Only our murdered children and blighted lives
Our brothers and sisters in Moses and Christ
Our mothers and fathers who were disappeared
The neighbor boy who played his tunes too loud
The pharmacist who tried to stop a tank
With her fists
The traffic cop who gave us speeding tickets
MeeMaw in the bombed-out nursing home
Our cousins in the bombed-out railway station
Our brothers, they say, in some bombed-out trench
Ambulance drivers, nurses, physicians, technicians
Farmers, janitors, electricians, schoolgirls
Teachers, bankers, cleaners, grocery clerks
A woman cooking thin soup over a fire
Abandoned little house pets fighting over
A severed hand in the center of the road

Send them Your dawn, O Lord, Your Easter dawn
Send them Your dawn, O Lord, at long last – dawn

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