Sin
There is great sin in the hands of men.
Sin in the hands with blood.
Sin in hands of men with no face.
A sin who speaks and says: HATE!
A sin who speaks and says: MINE!
And we speak from our own sin and we say: NOTHING…
And we speak from our own sin and we say: SILENCE…
The voices are quiet when death passes by.
The streets seem empty when death passes by.
The buildings do not stand when death passes by.
There is great sin in the hands of men.
There is great sin in the hands of Israel.
But God is watching and before you know,
Oh, Israel, your arrogance will be turned into sorrow again.
© All rights reserved. Author Marcela Villar M. 2015
Copyright © Marcela Villar M | Year Posted 2015
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment