Conviction

How do you speak for the byways
and hidden vales of a sleeping city?
As the billows of pale blue, tainted
                                   smog grips the throat and chokes
the words until an uncomfortable
silence peppered by sickly coughs
blankets the streets in industrial
ignorance,
                strained, ember-tinted, dull
eyes peer out in sentry-form alarm,
fearing almost-morbid intent to punish,
lurking like serpents in the alleyways.
A smile is silenced by the grip
                        of violence and degradation.
The wise, outwardly clothed, seem
no different from the vagrant soul.
A plague of greed and gluttony
                            makes victims of many.
How do you speak for all these?
How do you speak when they beat
all who speak, with hammers
and cudgels of clandestine evil
and steely  eyes of disapproval?

How do you speak?

We speak in common tongues and whispers,
behind closed doors and hidden cellars,
speaking of faith and hope and a purer future.
We speak of God, His truth in all Scripture -
the compass gold, that points to Christ.
We speak of redemption, atonement,
               and the promise of eternal life.
We speak of salvation for a city,
asleep to such a need.
We speak again of reformation,
to bring to spark His divine will
            in the heart.
By this and against,
we are they who are called hence:
Christian.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Written 12/19/2013. First blatant poem about my religious convictions. Cheers!