Blood Running

By

Like the Mayan priests of old
Sacrificing innocents every second,
Our medicine men in white coats
To our young women beckon.

What's one million
give or take?
They still die on
For utility's sake.

The blood runs hot
And sticks to our hands.
The bodies pile and rot
And swiftly cover the land.

Our fields grow empty
And the crops have failed.
Kneeling before the god of ease
We bow and quail.

What's one million
take or give?
They will die on;
They will not live.

Their blood cries out,
It screams for justice.
Will we heed the shout
Or do what appeases us?

What's one million
more or less?
They still die on
And truth is suppressed.

We think we are blessed!
But we are cursed.
We think we've progressed,
But we are perverse.

What's one million
less or more?
They die on
While we rot to the core.


Every day in the US, about 3,000 children lose their lives. There are 1,440 minutes in a day.

This poem is dedicated to the memory of those children.

"Every child not allowed to be born, but unjustly condemned to be aborted, has the face of Jesus Christ, the Lord'd face, inasmuch as before he was born, and while born, he experiences the rejection of the world."

Pope Francis

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