we’;ll pray no more
at the garden of gethsemane
though our umbrellas are the swaying leaves
of the praying olive trees
firmly standing still
after so many hurricanes
after so many masses and rituals
of deceiving pharisees
though nine hundred years had past
at the calm garden of gethsemane
we’ll no more stare at and talk to
the stars on the ashen serene sky
we’ll pray no more
at the garden of gethsemane
venerated even by the crystal tears
of the brook of kedron
repeatedly we’ve recited the rosary
inside the bellies of gigantic temples
we’ve genuflected before the altar
of so many wooden sedentary saints
even took our communions
on holidays and sundays
offered hosannas to one merciful god
yet year after year after year
we’ve been carrying on our shoulders
a cross as heavy as the world
while patiently trekking our path
toward our calvary of broken skulls

yes, we’ll pray no more
at the garden of gethsemane
near the heart of kedron
we’ll no more rest our backs
on the old sturdy olive trees
we’ve been repeatedly nailed
on numerous holy weeks
on our cross of sorrows and despair
we’ve died for so many times
but reincarnated again and again
because gyrating are our hopes
on the screen of our eyes
because our ideology of love
keeps marching on and on
its cadences hoping to silence
the shouts of injustices
its rebellious rumbling sounds
will be exploding bombs
desiring to destroy to smitterens
society’s inequalities.
yes, the few demigods
of injustices and greed
will soon be buried
on the hills of broken skulls
their blood will oveflow
on the crystal-clear brook of kedron
to finally submerge and drown
the golgotha of the poor!