The mask is off—
the words hailed as a gentleman’s
came from the face of a killer
so hardened—or softened—
by evil
that he can sit down to eat
with treachery—
and not recognize the horror he has welcomed
in our name.
.
The night is black,
the skies are clear,
and our hands are red
with stains we cannot
wash away.
.
Far, far away
Afghans clamber
desperately for life.
And who will help them?
Today we leave them
and tomorrow they die.
.
And we sit here,
helpless,
bent with grief,
dressed at last
in sackcloth and ashes,
crying to You, Oh LORD,
the only One
who can make things right.
.
Gratefully His 