For Charmaine Mare, for the Indian woman who was gang raped, for all those who suffer and go hungry and are in despair while the world turns a blind eye. This is not the mind of Christ, this is not the heart of God.
There is a whisper in the darkness,
a mournful wailing through the trees
that no one hears, for all their silence.
There is a crying in the night;
a weeping voice that mourns the plight
of every innocence that’s taken,
each time that blood is drawn this night.
Where has the light gone from the lanterns,
why are the stars so dim tonight?
Where is the song we sang so brightly
for justice done and hearts alight
with passion burning for the helpless,
filled with a will to guide them right?
Where has the wind gone from the treetops,
why is the world so still tonight?
What can we say in this dark hour,
what can we do when hope is lost?
There’s no defense to shield our sorrows,
no compassion we can claim;
for every sinless life that’s taken
is the proof of our own shame.
Why have we not stood up to conquer,
but left the world to face its blame?
We have the light, we claim to carry
hope eternal, hope that’s real;
and yet we cower in the shadows,
fearful of our own demise.
When did we leave the candles burning
at the altar of our souls;
for we have sacrificed our freedom
for the comforts of this world.
We suck the marrow from its bones,
though dead it lies before our feet;
we who claim to be the light,
we cannot see our own defeat.
Where are we when the evil clamors,
breaking doors and throwing stones?
Where are we when the helpless suffer,
do we let them stand alone?
Is there no hope that they can cling to,
is there no truth that we possess?
We are like corpses, only shadows
light-filled beings, clothed in dark.
Will we forget the swords we carry,
will we neglect those whom He loves?
Where has the light gone from the lanterns,
where is the song we could not sing?
Where is the fire that once was burning,
and the hearts of strength, once young?
Will they come forward from the shadows,
let the beating of the drums
breathe fire into their sleeping souls,
recall them from the darkness sprung?
We are devoid of all our glory,
leaving songs of light unsung.
We are sleeping on their graves,
the brittle ropes to which they clung,
we left them in their deathly throes
and threw them to the devil’s tongue.
We watched with sleepy eyes, glazed over
as they perished in the flames
and gave no help to those who floundered,
even when they called our names.
This song is death, this song is darkness
but the truth must come to light
or never see the shadows flee;
so take the scales from our eyelids,
let us step into the night
brandish our weapons,
chase them from their perches high
and take the night back for ourselves
and make it shine as bright as day.
O come all warriors, come all carriers
of this light we crave with hope;
come and hear the mournful wail,
come and light the shadows dark.
Still the weeping spirits, sighing
for their pain is at an end;
embrace the ones whose lives were ended
at the flourish of a knife
and to the innocent down trodden,
give them hope that there is light.
