Your Hands Are Not Clean, America

Your lips preach freedom, but your hands drip with the oil of innocent blood. You speak of peace, but your bombs have baptized the earth in chaos. I have seen your flags fly high in Baghdad, in Kabul, in Tripoli— not as symbols of liberty, but as shadows over graves you helped dig. You called Saddam a demon, spoke of weapons never found— but the only weapon that killed thousands was your lie, polished and televised. You turned the Holy Land into a furnace of weeping mothers. And still, your voice says: "We fight for democracy." But democracy does not come on the back of tanks. It does not wear uniforms that trample the cries of the oppressed. You speak of the International Criminal Court— and yet, you silence it when the gavel falls on one of your own: Benjamin Netanyahu, the accused, bathed in Gaza’s smoke, but guarded by your shield of denial. You call yourselves the civilized, but your soul has forgotten the God who lifts the humble and breaks the prideful. Now, the Global South is rising— with the dignity you once denied them. They remember Congo. They remember Haiti. They remember the long night of colonial cruelty. You call them enemies, but they are only your mirror, reflecting your sins with sobering truth. And I say to you: > What you do unto the least of these, you do unto yourselves. For every empire built on lies will fall by truth. Your children will ask one day: "What did you build, father?" Will you say: "I built prisons in Palestine and playgrounds in Texas?" No— the world will not forget, and neither will God. > “For everyone who exalts himself shall be humbled, and the one who humbles himself shall be exalted.” Amen.