Tell her I am leaving now – an experience by L J Frank

Image for Writings
Credit: Jean Philippe-Cypres, photographer


Tell her I am leaving now,

a cause long forgotten

slowly seeps back into my brain

as I step over a mangled, dead body

lying in the street

a human soul bleeds

another religious holiday arrives

woven in a tapestry

of stone, wire and bullets

and a child dies of hunger

a veteran of some past war kills himself,

soldiers, police and vigilantes

exit the cathedrals and temples of faith

attending to the corporate business at hand,

the politics of blood


but in whose Name?


I contemplate the imprisoning walls

built on the borders of the mind

when I notice folded hands

no longer attached to the owner’s arms

lying in the gutter

in prayer

forsaken by their God,

and a young boy cries, “it hurts”

but reason is in hiding.


A sound is heard in a distant valley

I climb a rock-strewn slope

and look over my shoulder


who profits the most

as more weapons arrive

in a distant field

while deal makers make deals

the voices of war remain undiminished

and in the wilderness of hope

is a desert

I must cross,

tell her I am leaving now.