Does anyone here believe in God?

Surely, if you believe in God,

You believe, for all its faults, in peace,

And there’s precious little sign of that.

 

Men dressed in gaudy robes and giant hats,

With pots of incense which they wave about,

Will bless all sorts of fighting and atrocity.

Blessed are the warmakers now, it seems.

 

That said, we know God is out there somewhere.

In some form, we makes his way through battlefields

And devastated cities in the night,

Dispensing kindness and comforting the sick.

Sometimes he climbs above the fray and looks back.

‘Not in my name,’ he says. But who listens?