The Horrors of Our Hymns

We’re Wednesday warriors waiting on
the Friday night lights,

a stone’s throw away
from self-righteous

They’ve stepped into our riots,

a final
phalanx of defiance led
by people living
on diets of
dismemberment and

requiems with religious tinge for
sectarian men in both
name and limbs.

Zion of our xenophobia,
lions fighting cobras for a
savanna in
nobody still wants
to live.

The horrors of
our hymns, composed to build us
bridges between each other as children
and siblings,

most wicked in their
coming of age.


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