Dark splats cover the head,
Driven insane by death and doubt.
Blood drips from heavy hands,
Weighed down by worry and despair.
A coat lays on the shoulders
Of a man trapped in a recording
That repeats over and over again.
There is no escape for an obsessed man.
Polite words crawl out of his mouth.
He is eager to please, eager to end
The shameful suffering of those
Cooped up inside the temple.
Where can we go? They cry.
When will it all end? They whisper.
To submerge in the holy water
Is the dream of my home,
And of my people.
To be washed clean
Of this heaviness,
Of this trauma,
Of this unclean spirit.
Free me now!
Please, have mercy.