The graves of the saints 

Break the silence the pyramids hold.
Release the cry of the entombed.
The mummies know the smell of death
are wrapped in cloths covering truth.
The writings on the walls entrap.
It's hist'ry writ by victory's lies.

Where the bodies are laid acrosss the fields
like dominoes ready to fall at a shove
they speak the truth of the victims lost
to the power of might against the small.
Lean o'er their coffins, an ear to their lips;
hear the silent pleas seeping through their strips.
For Time will release the fuller tale
ignored by powers intent on death
till death is the bloodline of their life
and their immortals lay as victims under grass
prettied by the crosses saluting the fields
watched o'er by sentries pretending all is well.

One too many die, die the ignoble death
believing their cause was the last for humankind
that they were the greatest who marched the Earth
that evil would die through their heroed life
for Today's crosses salute the rising sun
spreading shadows across the graves of the saints.



*The true, universal Church is not the one that affirms its will to be so, but the one that, without being too interested in itself, communicates the faith in love to everyone.
-Jean Sulivan


*The Church exists everywhere there are communities that give testimony of universal love.
-Jean Sulivan