
I heard that you were angry,
I heard that you were furious,
Thousands of miles away-
You were plotting, they said.
I was tending my garden,
Trying to make ends meet,
Feeding my children- I love,
And I knew that they were wrong.
I guess you are like me,
Just wanting to live and love,
Just trying to make it through,
And I knew that they are wrong.
Does your God ask you to kill?
Does he ask you to hate me?
Does your God still talk to you?
I lost mine when the bombs fell, in your garden.
*In memory of the innocent lives lost in the middle-east and the ones that will continue to lose their lives. Posted earlier on “The Bridge”.