We cry for angels on each avenue.
The Devil rides our streets and there are few
may run so fast his evil to escape
when aimed by an ideal so full of hate.
There’s bloody death in Nice we all must share.
When will we take up our ideals; defend
the innocent so destiny’s their friend?
Our sighs still come too late as all those cries
from World War Two? Old souls regard the scene
repeated and repeat as oft we sigh:
“Another angel lost; we hear your screams.”
But when will we defend the little ones
when evil’s had his day by truck or gun.
Enough! Enough! The carnage and the cost:
too late to sigh and scream for Holy Ghost!
jacquelinecaseypoetry 