When Holy Hands Drop Bombs
What makes it okay to bomb a nation?
Kill so many who don’t have a station?
Destroy a country, cities and families?
Women, babies, children and men—all tragedies—
Who never chose this war… suffer again and again.
Across the globe, a catch twenty-two
Do what I say, not as I do.
What happened to the Fifth Commandment?,
In a world where religion is prominent?
They will kneel in mosques, temples, and pews,
Preaching love while heralding news.
Holding holy books high with blood-soaked hands,
While dropping their bombs on sacred lands.
Using their people as sacrificial lambs.
Caging each other with judgments and damns.
?These false messiahs in power prevail,
While dragging us down to a desolate hell.
Overcome by greed, immoral pursuits,
watch as Truth and compassion uproot.
?Those who lust for control and command?
Crush our spirit with their own iron hand.
What gives the leaders the power to say?
Who lives or who dies, and who’s led astray?
We are not pawns, not war machines—
Our hearts are breaking behind the scenes.
But no one will ask, they refuse to see—
What gives them the right to speak for me?
Will Allah weep? Will Jesus cry?
Will mothers scream to an empty sky?
What about angels when the rockets fall?
Do they turn away… or see it all?
Don’t speak about peace with blood on your shoes,
While you light the match for the world to lose.?
Your prayers mean nothing when children bleed—trust,
God knows the difference between faith and greed.
Let history judge what silence allowed,
The deafening roars, the martyr’s shroud.
And when the dust settles, will truth remain—
Or just more graves without a name?
Still, I believe in a higher call,
A day when justice outshines it all.
But until then, I’ll write and cry—
And ask the heavens… why, God, why?
Copyright ©
Tracy McBride
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