Wash my Wounds

Wash the wounds of war.
Wallow
in the wasted blood
of innocents.
Despair destroyed,
death shares no partnership
with pain.

Cleansed of fear,
free now,
I walk with angels,
watching wreaths wilt
on wooden coffins
carved with scarlet letters.
Blood-red,
too deep to fade.

Bathe me with
your water,
crystal clear.
Baptize me,
to renew again
my hope
in you,
humanity.

Did you not hear,
my cries,
and screams?
How could you ignore
my agony,
and my pain?
And why did you sleep,
when I drew my
last gasps?

Awaken, from your
worldly slumber.
Sift through
slaughtered innocence.
Touch the
tears
I shed.

Through satin sands
of hope,
I see your
furrowed brow,
and hear
your anguished voice.

A halo hovers
over me.
I do not
dread the night.
Light lifts
my spirit.
Faith fills
my heart.
Hope,
is the air
I breathe.

Fear not.
You wash
an angel's corpse.
And now I know,
God's love will
conquer
all.

Beyond the suffering
menaces of life.
Torn tissue,
shattered faith.
My spirit runs
untrammelled
in celestial bliss,
where seeds of hope
bear fruit.

And from the seed
a harvest
heralds.
Scarred souls soften.
Hardened hearts heal.
Hope sustains,
peace prospers,
and
nations breathe again.