oh heaven blind, white and pure
you angels devoid of hearing—
mother mary, are you near?
here in the dark, your golden roads gleaming
and your children blindly screaming
cover them with halos pulled from your lovely holy hair
blanket all the lost with smiles
raining golden flowers sent as mantras
to burst upon our glory–
mommy mary, doth the cries not bring tears to your sweet eyes?
and oh, the many explosions:
iron birds committing suicide
while we chosen ones smile upon those not fit to die–
mother mary, pure in heaven,
didn’t you see us begging to live?
have you no ears for our screams–
have you no heart?
we waited for you.