Who Can The Godless Turn To In Such Times
when tragedies come bursting through the peace?
Aware of all the “Foxhole” paradigms,
how can they cope with such atrocities?
Religions, raise and rally to the line,
a congregation charged with common woe.
Amassed beneath the wings of the Devine,
each bears a shoulder where they all can go.
When death befalls the innocence of youth,
no answer seems sufficient from above.
We need no Church to help us find the truth.
We need not know their “God” to know we love.
If “Souls” exist, this one which he has taken
cannot convince the godless, they’re mistaken
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem