Burning of a Black Church

The Burning of a Black Church

I hear a wheezing siren eminate
Its urban call to penetrate the night.
Too late to save this lowly holy structure.
Flames leap and lick to denigrate the light.

The heat of hate is hotter yet than flames.
These flames, though hot, cannot illuminate
A cause so vile its names are seldom spoken
As broken truths ignite and confligrate.

Smoke and ash and hatred now arise
Where voices rose in song and love and praise.
The tears of worshippers shine darkly
To ask if hate may yield to peace and grace.

Good people mourn the loss and sadly yearn
As redly glowing embers smoke and burn.