Saint Stephen


by Michael Martinez

Dark vapors rise from the ashes of the old world, as the dawn comes, you can see the bodies of our young mutilated, in tatters; chard by the the early dawns light over the new moon.
For they have come for us in ancient times, and they come for us now; screaming ancient battle cries wildly over the peeks of hills of sand, now soaked with the blood of innocent men, women, and children.
For their blood lust will never be satisfied, as it is born into their flesh.
To raise their hands baring swords caked with the blood of my people, or to rise against their own; with twisted codes of honor justifying the endless slaughter of women, as is their way.
For their barbarous hate has been spread throughout the generations of time, as their elders kept the beating heart of holy wars alive; pounding in the ear’s of their children, and their children ‘s children.
Calling them forth to arms!
To battle!
For the old ways must never die, as all new knowledge and understanding has been corrupted by the allowance of my peoples existence.
For they say that we spread false truths of God to pervert his divine knowledge; for all must die that will not convert, as there are no innocents in war.
For they do this wile preaching peace as their true message to all who would listen, but how can their words bare truth as their actions only hail genocide, and wars bloody hands out stretched to baptize me into their ways.
For is that peace?
Can this be truly God’s will?
To end the lives of those who bare you no harm, and who do not wish you ill-will?
As I hear the cry’s of my people in the east, I can do nothing to save these kings of heavens grace.
For now all they will be is monuments; martyrs bathed in the blood of their brothers, their sisters, their sons, their daughters, their wives, husbands, fathers, and mothers.
Raising their eye’s towards the heavens as they take their last breath saying,”father forgive them, for they know not what they do…

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