We feel
In the trenches

They say
When in Rome
But I don't think
I could crucify God

Palms nailed
Side lanced
I am not one
To beg forgiveness

Not one
To fall on my knees
Not one
To forgive

Nothing
He would not do for me
Nothing
I would not ask of him

I mourn your death
As a betreyal
When I look down
The hammer
Is in my hand

You blame
The church
For sins of man

Hold accountable
The temple
Not the hands

The alter
For its silence

The tabernacle
For curtains
To thick to unveil
The sins of a saint

A holy of holies
Torn
Two pieces of cloth
One for a funeral shroud
The latter a sail for a ship
To hell's gates

You beg
For anything, nothing
There are no promises
On bleeding ground

A pilgrimage
Of swords
Not confessing
A holy war

My grandmother
Had a different name
Before I was born
She will not die with it

I write about temples
My feet
Will never be clean enough to enter

Sins
I cannot wash off my hands
Heaven's
I pray my children will know
Hell's
I carry
On broken shoulders

I do not want you
To know the weight

Not your burden
To bear
My cross to carry

In the tomb
Of my ancestors
The stone
Rolled away

The kingdom is yours