holy poem, after the death of god

snow all afternoon but
nothing is made beautiful


no one is considered holy


at some point
the last city is built
and then there is only slow decay


sons are shot and
daughters raped and all of
the missing are given names


and some of them come home
while others are martyred
and there is always the threat of
another religion


of the crippled
leading the blind and
of a war that everyone can
believe in


a way to kill only the
truly deserving


how much of your life are
you willing to waste
making these decisions?