In violent voices you arose

Hate hugging your soul

Wielding your ill will my way day and night

Threatening to wipe away my existence

Conscripting executioners for your undertaking

Hurling insults, dehumanising your own

With stones, logs and bibles you led them

To my privet altar of love


But still I stand; tall and proud

Death dropping in the face of rebuke

Knowing that my strength is a beacon of hope for many

Who hatred has wrapped around its pinky

And throttled their radiance 

I aim not to shoot at you, my oppressor

But to protect my kind from claws of hate

And vulgar your deluded mind from hub of serenity

Which is my privet alter of love