House Of God

Gnarled fingers feeling and
Kneading the clay,
Sieving the sand,
And baking to pray.

Topping the dome
In slippery tiles,
Cut by these men,
And set out in style.

Hijacked by traders,
And looted since time,
Miracle performers who
Abetted this crime

Gods of these Houses,
Reclining in jest,
Have blood on their fingers,
And stone in their breasts.

Merchants of grammar
And agents of texts,
Reinventing old lies,
In holy pretexts.

Closing your palms and
Stifling your breath,
Do you shake hands,
That lead you to death?

How did this happen,
How did these men,
Venture so far,
Again, and again?

Now as you sit,
And hear of their cause,
All are the same,
And all because

Of me, you and the House of God.

User Rating: 4,9 / 5 ( 5 votes ) 10

Comments (10)

loved your write. either u vote or not but must read my poem I SEARCHED YOU. XLENT
Our differences cause all the worlds troubles, no one is allowed to be unique? We dress the same as peers, then uniformed we stand and growl at others not the same. If only we all realised we are the same, human beings clothed in different colours united by the stream of life that flows through all of us. I like what you write and I like how you write. Bob
a fine piece here may God shower his abundant blessings on you and your family tis my prayer for you regards anjali -10
How has he reached how far shall he go with only passage of time shall we know for the time being he claims his weapon, his sword carries the name of lord..
how did this happen, how did these men venture so far again and again- very powerful condemnation of brutalities of man on man in the name of religion. impressive Mamta
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