The Music of The Angels

A Poem For Peace

Beneath this volcanic inferno named hell,

Shackled to the very center of its flame;

Angels gather with hindered wings,

A tsunami brews in Satan’s name.

Evil never rests,

A bubbling plague in motion;

Angel’s voices are softly fading,

The devil brews his potion.

Little boys are murdered,

Children are dismembered;

Bloody knives and concubines,

Living ghosts remembered.

Fading into the facade;

The apathetic point their knife,

A bloodbath of heinous laughter–

Jerusalem breathing for her life.

Delirious with fury,

Through the rings and rungs of hell,

The shriek amid the gunfire;

Shaking jaws whisper Shema Yisroel.

Dark shadows peek,

Hidden beneath the ferns;

Animals drawing prey,

And still the fire burns.

Death carries a tune,

The end awaits; it sings.

Lurking ever close,

Its deep falsetto screams.

Heroes are held captive,

Babies purely slain;

Massacred by monsters,

Holocaust does not wane.

Mistaken for possessing beating hearts;

Danger survives the block.

Dusk and dawn don’t bring new hope,

Tomorrow’s already gone.

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For the child’s legacy,

The angels delicately beseech.

For the faith ablaze, a merciful daze,

That seems so out of reach.

And then…

From upon the haunting silence;

The angels break free for arrival.

Comfort to begin our own revenge,

Hatikva, our constant survival.

Hell is alive;

A relentless battle within and overhead—

But when the war is over,

It is always what is dead.

Flecks of gold come to life,

Swirls of glitter rise;

Today the angels fly,

Fly angels, fly.