Murder, He Smote (Poetry)

There must have been some cause
although the prologue’s blank
the absent scribe no help at all
just gossipers to thank

So how did things erupt?
Just what provoked such fire?
How did hate arise
and who had fed desire?

The flesh of men is torn
and butchered in a rage
of half-heard threats and taunts
that strut a tragic stage

The ghastly aftermath
a landscape of bad blood
where truth can’t find a hold
in myth and slinging mud

It was a foolish fight
no bodies healed the same
forgiveness found no perch
and none dared speak its name

The story’s widely known
as pointless murder should
poor Abel killed while Cain’s
the antithesis of good

Someone could have stopped the ruck
stepped in — diffused the row
loss of control back then
explains the violence now