When he says grace, 

He feels enveloped like a shadow – 

There are evening when this decimated world of movement, 

Colour, form is thin and getting thinner – 

When lights are dim and getting dimmer 

(when nights are grim and getting grimmer) – 

As they barter their boulder and martyr their soldier, 

Teach a man to tear her fucking head from her shoulders – 

Held into the sun by the threads of her hair as they impart a secret hatred from the fathers to their heirs – 

Suppressed and unaddressed the simple fact remains unspoken, 

In a silence left unbroken, on a bed bound and gagged with culture, 

Language, myth and law: our goddess have birth to your god 

From a wounded womb where her flesh is scarred and raw – 

Our goddess gave birth to your god