They came with guns to advertise their hate,
and organized to say they would not cease
to say they'd do what government police
would not do: show whose God was really great.
The imam walked out toward the loud debate.
The volume from the crowd swelled its increase,
as soldiers of a god of love and peace
kept shouting ‒ till he
opened up the gate,
and asked them all inside to kneel and pray,
or not, with all the others there within.
Of all the angry crowd some few went in
and changed their minds by when they left that day.
The cameras left to feed the fevered fears
where other mobs might further their careers.
If you have any comments on this poem, Marcus Bales
would be pleased to hear from you.