No eulogy can change the present or the past,
Neither charter the course of the future;
Nor coming resurrection.
No commentary can ease lingering pain
Nor the dejection of piercing grief.
For the widow and motherless,
Is there no shame?
What a mockery of free at last:
The confined grave, the only place of relief.
Only for the crucifixion of His begotten Son,
Can God be given the blame;
Mercy on those who’ve played Him with a gun.