Adam's story

The rain fell in sheets through the day.

At night the thin canvas drenched ripped.

Adam could not sleep, the shifting clay

Of his dreams turned to terror,

And curled into my curve he lay

Shivering, reliving the horror;

The earth watered by blood, his parents’ -

Skinned alive, wrapped in their own entrails,

Hanging a bait for the ancients,

Vultures wheeling, wings wind filled sails,

Waiting for the crossing, death’s sigh

To release the tormented soul’s I -

I found him lashed to a barbed post,

A note nailed proclaiming his life

Had sprung not from the pure, the host

Living inside The Book, its pages rife

With judgements for those people lost,

Their fate delivered with a dull knife.

I carried him back to my torn tent

Pegged among hundreds, all innocent,

Their stories twittering the internet

A moment’s distraction, briefly

Engaging, killed immediately

By posts of puppies which clearly

Matter more than an orphaned boy.

Above us skies weep, breasts broken.

He rests folded into my folds.