They came there for praying together
they came there not to die together
so many young and old filled with devotion,
little children pulled along by mothers
wanting them to follow dedication to faith;
on Sunday mornings they would all sing together
the church would vibrate with their voices
hymns, chorus, their responses co-ordinating
enabling them to brighten their faith;
but this Sunday was so different, so unsympathetic;
suddenly out of nowhere came a gunman
with a devilish mind and an action so sordid,
he kept shooting at them so mercilessly
people kept falling and dying in brutality
children so full of innocence and purity shot dead
having to depart for heavenly abode without
the tomorrows of life showing them
the grace and beauty of time and world.
Will tears, will prayers, will memories ever
give comfort or provide solace to those who gireve
when upon their minds will forever remain
that their loved ones died in a house of worship
will they ever stop to ask themselves-
-where was God's Mercy?
where was Salvation, indeed?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem