Exodus
Sara L Russell

I

Somewhere along the passage of my days
While scything down ambitions grown too tall
I lost something within life's tangled maze
and all its precious wonderment withal.

I occupied myself with mundane things
Hoping the restlessness would fade away;
Lost appetite for what tomorrow brings,
Lost energy for each new working day.

I thought I met Milton within a dream,
Taking my hand, he gave counsel to me;
Said "Paradise is distant, it may seem,
Yet all we need to do is find the key."

He pointed to a pathway flanked with flame,
And one other, whose signpost had no name.


II

I chose the unknown path; and on the way,
Saw oceans deep in bloodshed to the East;
Murmurs of nations too oppressed to pray,
And levys paid by numbers to the Beast.

There came a multitude by land and sea,
Their weary faces swam before mine eyes;
And in their midst came dark iniquity -
The enemy they fled from, in disguise.

Thou warlords of a hollow deity
That kneel before a stone within a cube!
Lovers of mamon and depravity!
I saw thy progress from Nile to Danube.

God sees thy evildoings even still;
Destroying life and property at will.


III

Will vestal virgins come to rescue thee
With ropes of kisses, from the Lake of Fire?
And wilt thou meet thy lunar deity,
Or will the spoils of war become a pyre?

And when we bravely turn the other cheek
Until there is no longer cheek to turn,
Still shalt thou see such sacrifice as weak,
As heads of traitors watch, but never learn?

The heads of all thy blameless enemies
Lie in neat rows, seeming as though they sleep.
Their lips no longer utter entreaties,
For death's slumber is mercifully deep.

Now they are gone, may Jesus ease their pain,
While thy lost souls shall beat their wings in vain.


IV

I searched for Paradise on Europe's shores,
Paris was bloodied, bowed, more worldly-wise;
Cologne's frail virgins - pilloried as whores,
For not adhering to thy book of lies;

Women of Stockholm - beaten, bullied, raped -
it seemed, simply for having golden hair;
No single part of Europe had escaped
The onslaught of destruction and despair.

Therefore do not reproach me when I state
Sharia Law brings no Utopia,
Nor hit me with passive-aggressive hate -
That facile word "Islamophobia".

For lo: the vilest of all blasphemies,
Was that an army posed as refugees.


V

Thou lowly rabid dogs of desert waste,
Self-righteous windbags of the Middle East!
Thy book of flies is tainted and disgraced,
Thy prophet bears the Number of the Beast!

A self-styled prophet is thy puppeteer,
Long dead - yet his depravity lives on.
Multiple bigamist, vile and austere,
Whose dark sadism's still not dead and gone.

Our prophet, the Messiah, Lord of Light,
Would hardly deign to scrape thee from his shoes,
And we will not go down without a fight,
While yet we breathe and have the right to choose.

God speed Christian, Yazidi refugees
Who flee from Islam's cankerous disease.


VI

What carest thou that our women walk free,
With lighter clothing and uncovered hair?
Or that two men live in matrimony,
Or two women; why should outsiders care?

What makes thy life so blameless or divine,
Is it the purity of younger wives?
Is it a total abstainence from wine,
That lets thee terminate infidel lives?

What makes thee judge and jury of us all
(Judge, jury - executioner as well)
Behold, cast the first stone and let it fall -
For karma leads all hypocrites to hell.

Messiah brings the faithful to His throne;
Allah brings but a monument of stone.


VII

All those whom thou beheaded, beat or stoned
All those thou crucified or killed with knives,
Are now with God eternally enthroned
While angels seek vengeance for wasted lives

Thy names are in the Necronomicon,
Thy souls shall melt within the Lake of Fire,
Where flames as of a million suns blaze on
While lost souls blister in volcanic mire.

Thy final chances squandered over war
with all thy overweening tyranny,
with all the evils of "Sharia Law"
And all thy prophet's monstrous legacy

All these abominations seal thy fate
Thanks to an ancient tome written in hate.


VIII

Forsaken citizens of Syria,
Beleagured, blameless, weary refugees!
Lost girls, long kidnapped from Nigeria!
May God protect them and their families.

An exodus of lost humanity
Exhausted and unwelcome everywhere
Each one part of unending tragedy
Living with cold injustice and despair.

Who are the interlopers? None can say,
They hide within the burkah or the crowd,
Their papers thrown illicitly away,
They never speak their treachery aloud.

They hide with women, children - brave indeed;
Safety in numbers; dry while others bleed.


IX

The moving finger writes across the sky;
Revenge strikes from the wolf in sheep's clothing.
It writes thy name in karma, eye-for-eye,
As those who financed war end everything.

They financed ISIS in its Infancy
When but a glint in one old imam's eye
With guns, second-hand tanks and blood money
They gave one small army the wings to fly.

They helped thee, foolishly, unknowingly,
Hoping to help depose a common foe;
And only now see their stupidity,
In helping far worse enemies to grow.

So it begins, the final end of days;
A prophecy no mortal can erase.