clutching crosses clinging to our creeds

lit candles drawn chalk circles having sinned

presuming to protect our precious seeds

with shelter from the wild uprooting wind

or keep a watchful eye for choking weeds

a garden grows like children in the rains

whole harvests marching off to sudden slaughter

in some impromptu skirmish let them go

feel their lifeblood falling with the water

steeping deep our prayers to stem the flow

chaos beyond our kindred and our ken

we bravely bear the brunt but what beside remains

of mighty works we built rebuilt again again

the death assured though never knowing when?