Why is it from our words that blood must rain,
Flashfloods of fury, seas of senseless waste?
What grim law makes another's loss our gain?
In finding common ground we pause. In haste
We seek our differences and mark them out;
Like dog-packs, we stake out our hunting range
And drive all others hence. It's all about
Team spirit and whoever's marked as "strange"
Becomes the enemy, "Great Satan". Hell
Attends him and his likeness. Every tale
Of sin is heaped upon him. Black thoughts well
Within him, and a righteous rage prevails,
Till soon the battle is joined; red rivers crash
Between us, and our dream is turned to ash.
George Chadderdon © 1996