Desecration - For the Christchurch Victims

 

Poem for the Christchurch Victims

                     

Desecration

There’s a madness

In the barrel bottom

Dross left behind

A stinking mislaid residue

Of what was once good.

It’s volume tiny

Yet septic

Enough to stain

                       

Permanently through malignity

Despite its ultimate insignificance

Spawning

Not a tragedy

But a calculated depravity.

Delicate souls

Merely seeking solace

From everyday woes  

And the types of him

Sanctuary not enough

To protect from the ideologies

Of the wanton blind.

We empathise

With their suffering

But cannot share it

And hope that we never have to

That hope that was theirs,

Stolen

That most brutal theft

Never to be retrieved.