Blood Poem by Smoky Hoss

There is blood on my hands;
and they won't come clean
alone and weary I'm tired
of nobody knowing what I mean

I kneel down
Look into the eyes of Death
As it lays there so still
In a puddle, upon the ground.
Something here is not right
indeed all is quite wrong
This dark has lingered on
Far too long.

When death's deed
Was done
The moon out shone
The sinking sun,
Blood dripped from the bullets
Outside of the gun.
A human heart had withdrawn
From it's beats
As the guiding angels
Quietly just took their seats
For what more could be said?
Jesus did not show this time,
To raise the dead.
Mary and Martha
Won't stop their crying,
Long after the paramedics
Stop their trying.

My mind won't believe
My eyes refuse to see
The senseless finality
Of this evil deed.

The divine image bearer
Still as stone
Is left to lay there
Dead, upon the cold ground.

I walk lonely
In the night's weeping rain,
Wondering if any words can hold me together
and quiet the endless pain
Or, will it all come apart
With the weight
Of a shattered heart.

With drops like blood dripping down my face
I stand alone in the dark and pray
Trying for words
I don't even know how to say,
Realizing more than ever
What a mere mortal I am,
A stranger here.
Passing through such unfamiliar land;

We all march
In the earth's threnody,
Changing so as we go
Becoming all things new, traveling into eternity.

Though we die, still we fly,
Hope does live, Love does win
New life awaits for all
Even now, even then.

Though now the sadness of life remains,
The realization is, before it's all through
We will hurt again.
And so often still do.

Here, the killer and the killed
Share in this pain,
For both must wear the long heavy chain
Of who is to blame;

Bloody chains
Leaving such bloody stains,
On more than just me
On more than just he.

Life is marked by plangent pauses
And consuming concerns,
We can only hope the reason and the cause is
For a life far greater to find and to learn.

There is a power in ancient Blood spilt for the ages,
And it is what it takes
To find forgiveness
And the freedom that it creates.

This power of blood is all around;
Death to be taken, Life to be found;
So man with mercy may show compassion to man.
And God smiling, blesses and understands.

There is always a drop of holy, forgiving blood
In every tender tear we cry.
Life returning
After we die.