A/N: This is a very angry poem…I realize that it will upset some people. But this is how I was feeling at a certain moment in time.
"The Children of Adam"
Sing a song
for the children of Adam,
sing a song for
the daughters of Eve.
Sing a song of the fire
they are cast in to burn;
sing a song
for the innocents
who die, who burn
and are damned
through no fault of their own.
Tell a tale
of the fall of man,
tell a tale
of the life of the world.
Tell a tale of rape
and murder and pillage
and hate and strife and war…
Tell the tales of those
who lived to tell them
and of those
who are buried and gone.
Recite the prayers
of the elders,
recite the chants
of tradition and lore.
Recite holy words of right and wrong
freedom and bondage
punishment and reward.
Recite the traditions
that promise heaven
and discover that they
are empty and cold.
And cry, cry, for the Indian man
who on his deathbed calls
for the blessings of Vishnu;
And cry, cry, for the Afghan girl
who screams to Allah as a bullet sings home;
Cry, cry, and sing, and sing,
for and of the innocents who die
and burn, and burn, without
knowing…
How can they know him?
How could they know him?
What is their crime?
How is it right?
An evil, evil, sad world
that deserves its coming fire—
but lo! The children of God
who have never seen Him,
have never prayed
or fallen on knees
before Him,
they burn
they burn
they burn…
So sing a song for those
who don't deserve their fate.
Sing a song to those
whom some call 'bad.'
For bad and good, right and wrong,
they simply DON'T MATTER!
When it comes to Heaven,
it's down to whoever
has a Pass to get in,
you see…
So sing a song for the children of Adam.
Sing a song
for the fallen race
that has swallowed them up.
Raise the haunting flute
and the strident oboe
to tell of those who are dead,
dead,
dead, buried, burned, gone.
Sing a song
of the children of Adam
who after a life in misery
will burn
will burn
will burn…