A people, out of their religious conviction
Rally to the support of a depraved despot
No matter he is a tyrant, a murderer, a thief
No matter he cares nothing for anyone but
Himself
It matters only that he is one of their own,
Of the same implacable Faith.
One must ask what sort of religion
Compels a person to forsake all that is good and honest
In this world
To promote a cruel, punishing God who reaps
Vengeance on innocents, the fingers of his
Almighty Hands steeped in the gore of his own
Creation.
This is no God. This is no true religion.
This is madness, of foolish man's
Foolish making.
~ Laurence Overmire
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem