Holocaust the Apathy

blood reaches to the gate of hell, alongside with
innocent flesh sways into the open gate of heaven
wounded seems fragile yet! hopeless to come
close of sacred doorstep of eternal life

sweat pour out the ground of loud cried,
shouting with silent prayer; a wish that comes what
may, gently await the coming last days of judgment

the bucket seems to full of empty flower, while
lighted candle surround the corner of vessel cool of
moist bonded to hold close in the cup of
final judgment remain in the altar

down in the aisle I’ll go and gone brightly the
condolence I receive, where is the blood
I bring...

poem by Antonio Liao
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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