The Smiting Of Beth Sarim Poem by Noah Smits

Day breaks at the daycare where men march in line,
at the dale ‘round the delta o' the blood-tinted stream.
Clouds loll periwinkle with haze of last morn,
the gunsmoke shot by parents, prideful eyes all agleam
has rose—to the stars with Nativity's shine
see the twinkle! see the twinkle! a babe has been born!

Midday and there's word of an exit from here,
a savior, a messiah, come in swaddling clothes.
Genius so beyond this mob mired in harms
has bequeathed august purpose, the likes none of them knows.
One man, made a father, erupts in a cheer:
just as promised! just as promised! a child in my arms!

Twilight, but the soldiers have yet to abate
the attacks. Though with caution each of that personnel
gives son, or gives daughter, his faith and aplomb.
The general bids his offspring a most tender farewell:
"My son, how I love thee, be off and be great."
hear the thunder! see the slaughter! the babe is a bomb!