From the ancient city-state of Syracuse to the Inuit lands of the North
rise the hollowed cries of tomorrow’s shackled children
the wrath of the gods an eternal damnation
for the sins of one who fell into power
through the Devil’s telling hand,
blinding many into fools who ignored their smallness
avarice and rape coursing through blackened veins.

Their anger becomes muted by the rains
burdens lessened through forgiveness born of innocence,
washed of original sin even as they inherit another.
With upturned faces they feel the stain run to mud
mixing with the earth, aging mother of mercy.