What happened to the days
when your name was wrath,
when your voice tore the trees
of the forest and made mountains smoke?
The trumpets blew,
mankind trembled and fled at your decent—
Your jealousy was a furnace
and you made those who
lessened your name like puppets
to teach your chosen.
Where’s the walled-sea?
The cloud-flame?
The one who made the earth swallow men?
You who slaughtered idolaters
not sparing the women or
their dear ones,
allowing their blood
to pay toll.
Calamity.
Chaos.
What do they name you now?
Friendship and acceptance?
Love and happiness?
The Christmas spirit?
Good Ol’ Saint Nick?
Bah.
Humbug.
I don’t believe in Christmas.
I don’t believe in satisfactory love and
unconditional truth. Bah!
i’d rather be a lamb!
at least then my blood would count,
and mankind,
with crimson hands,
would see the true meaning
of the word they toss around.
[[love] bah]
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