The Losing Faction

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We tore the children from their parents
    And babies nursing at the breast,
Believing cruelties make deterrents,
    Lest threats be misperceived a jest.

We stationed sentries at the border
    And gave them weaponry to shoot
At innocents—it was an order— 
    Lest poor folk be inclined to loot.

We claimed a conscience lily-white,
    Yet all the world hypocrisy
Perceived as clear as day from night,
    Ourselves blind who refused to see.

By sleight of hand invoking Jesus
    Yet we proclaimed gross murder good,
For profit sublimates, appeases
    The gods of justice understood.

Blood on our hands, yet we impugned
    The innocent and wounded, killed
Our heritage, and killing, swooned,
    So lies some subterfuge might build.

Blood on my hands, I will not say
    That I approve this course of action,
So, dying, let me bleed that way,
    A member of the losing faction.