Silent Halls 

By Charbel Sader


I wash your feet, soldier, to give you peace

To give you ease and satisfaction

I clean your hands from gunpowder and blood

And rinse your eyes from the death you have seen

 

Lie down in the bath, the water calms your mood

A drop on your dusty helmet is enough

To evaporate your guilt, and inch by inch

Your war torn skin will be pure and marble white

Stainless, you are as righteous as our saints

 

Now, while we celebrate the holy mass

None of my sisters will ask whom you battled

No one will ask whose side you were on

And in these silent halls you’re admired