Golden Fragments

We're numb with shock. We've heard it all before.
The cries of pain. The sounds of running feet.
The figures sprawled across a shattered floor.
The rain of golden fragments in the street.

Was no-one there to hear the victims cry
from broken stone and smoldering concrete?
Shattered hope fell from a smoke-filled sky
its golden fragments tumbled to the street.

A shrine that holy hopes and dreams produced
where pilgrims came, their history to meet.
A thousand years of pilgrimage reduced
to golden fragments lying in the street.

Terror stalks the cities and the towns
as hatred senseless violence repeats.
And silent crowds stand dumbstruck, staring down
at golden fragments trampled in the street.

What will can stem destruction's angry flood
and make the wounded once again complete?
What hand can turn the rising tide of blood
and raise these golden fragments from the street?

O Lord, O God, raise up and make complete
these shattered golden fragments in the street.