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I sit here angry,

my whole senses cluttered.

Yet you sit still by me,

telling me to turn to prayers.

Can prayers crush

those dreadful youths?

Who allow themselves be led,

used by ruling brutes?

Can "prayers" now,

bring back my dead

from an early grave—

the earth, a bloody red?

I'm not in the state of mind

to "come up hither", acting.

So don't put me in a bind.

These "leaders" need good cursing.

Let God act if He's willing.

Me, I'm raw,

my insides bleeding.

The strength I have

is to mourn my dead.

So don't plant me on

that religious bed.

We've been praying

and praying for decades,

and has it ever

relieved our heartaches?

Take comfort in your prayers.

Hide like ostriches—in denial.

But the truth is

staring us in the face—

all that can end this war

is blood and rage.

I know your heart is heavy.

Your sorrows come in bevies.

No job for years,

now, your loved ones dead.

And the reasons

cried "treason!".

Talked about things

not in season.

I see your anger,

I see your pain.

I see the lies

and the acts they staged.

I know your thoughts,

how they war and rage.

And all you've thought of doing

with a well-timed grenade.

I know right now you're hurting.

Your senses are shutting.

But I need you to hold on

and trust in my timing.

Herod fell, eaten by worms.

Struck down by my angel,

at the peak of his scorn.

Pharaoh's heart,

hardened as ice.

The sea, vast,

like his ego—

his watery demise.

There are others as well

that you do not know.

But never forget,

My words yield when sown.

I cannot deny

that I am God.

Of mercy and love,

of judgment and justice.

And though my next words

may not tickle your ears,

I much prefer the former,

when they come in true tears.

Be rest assured.

My judgement is not slack.

For in the fullness of time,

I will not hold back.

But you, can you trust me?

And let vengeance be mine?

So your hands stay unsullied

through the passage of time?

Can you let me do this?

Can you trust my pact?

So your soul and body,

most dear, remains intact?

Can you wait a while longer?

Let their iniquities fill their cup?

Or will you wrought vengeance

for yourself?

Unripe and while it's hot.

Waiting isn't weakness.

Instead, an act of trust.

Pray, watch, and in time's fullness,

My justice will come, it must!

"Vengeance is mine.", says the Lord.

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Author's note: Be comforted.