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We make this divine with blood mixed with wine,
Spilled out onto the streets and they bay for us
(Pray for us)
Too heathen both to face the lions
So they furnish us with weapons
We’ve forged ourselves,
And tell us
“Go ahead, make your fathers proud”
So before heaving crowd
We stand
Bloodied hand in bloodied hand
Sand hot beneath our toes
And you scream that they will not have forgiveness
And you scream that they too will fall
Because the gods are far too fickle
To choose sides for any length of time
And in the dust of two thousand years
We’ll find ourselves
The bones of us
Beneath a city whose name lasted longer than its people
Blood and wine baked into the earth
(I make this holy with a kiss)

(This is a poem inspired by a poem my friend wrote years ago and one of the lines always really stuck with me and I’ve always wanted to riff off of that.)