Even though I am dead I bare witness.
Grief touches me even in the earth.
I am slaughtered body and soul and still I live.
Where are our laws.
What does the universe think of us now.
How are we judged.
Do flowers still grow.
Or stink with the smell of death.
Agony greets us each endless day.
Children are no longer loved.
Women no longer protected.
It is darkness though the sun shines.
Where are our heroes.
Our holy saints.
Will heroism save our earthly bodies.
And respected souls.