A Life Wasted

On a rope in Baghdad,
His lifeless body dangles
In the morning,
The butcher,
The defendant,
The rich and powerful President
Who slaughtered his own people
Was gone.

His unbridled quest for power,
Made wives widows,
He though he could hide His sin,
But the Lord God saw
And the horror of his crimes
Was made plain to the whole Earth.
Though, he lived as a king,
He died as any other criminal.

Take no joy in the death
Of the wicked,
For the Lord does not.
Look on that dangling corpse
And behold one created
In the Image of God
Who chose to become a devil.
Take up lamentation for Saddam:

For a life’s opportunity squandered,
For a soul destroyed.
Let it fill our hearts with dread and fear
For the evil in man.

What was done
Had to be done,
But let no one rejoice,
For Justice brings no joy,

Only a restful calm,
And vengeance is a devouring flame
That cuts off the soul of man.

Poetry

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