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Hand of God

Then there you were.

Calling through the din of war,
you beckoned,
and I obeyed.

I make amends.

The muzzle of my gun
I mask my military might
and squat to greet
your greatness.

Give me your hand.

For I
am more than war.
A mother;
my name is Mary.

Call me Mother Mary.

and I will write
my name
upon your innocence.


Do not let
the coldness of your
reflect your heart.

My alter ego.

In the desert dunes
you clench your childish
to fight a world
that wearies you.

I am not your enemy.

The first casualty of war
is truth.
Fraught with fear,
you fumble for a friend.

Let me in.

I too,
curse this war
that brings us
both to tears.

In the silence of a moment shared,

we both
stand on
Ground Zero.

Lost within my dreams.

Snatching sleep
in shelters,
I no longer know
what I set out
to save.

Your fingers tremble.

A barren wind
blows above your head.
But this my child
is certain.

After all wars there is peace.

And today
my child?


Mother Mary

The Hand of God