Canst Thou Hear Them Cry

25  July, 2024; original

I am taken by my guide, he shows me the early Saints.

“The guns, canst thou hear the guns?” the figure tells me.

I look, I see the smoke of musket fire.

Houses burn, but there is no warmth for the lifeless here. Their bodies lay in the streets. They are resting now.

“The children are crying. Canst thou hear them cry?”

I listen, and hear the cries of the homeless wandering a wasteland tundra. They seek and search for the Lord, a place to belong, to place their souls on holy ground.

They came from Earth’s corners to the mountains.

The scene changes.

The figure speaks again. “The children still cry, canst thou hear them cry?” 

I hear them, they cry for belonging but now amongst themselves. 

They have entered the Lord’s House, but among the Saints they have not felt the Lord’s home. 

They wander the religious tundra. They seek and search for the Lord, a place to belong.

They are on Zion’s corners, they search with honest hearts in other mountains for holy ground.

The figure is gone, but its voice lingers.

“Canst thou bring the angels home?” It says 

“Bring the angels home again.”