The Slaughter

Grady McMurtry

20 September 1940

Father, why have I died today?

Life to me was so very sweet.

Please tell me why I must lay

Mixed with the mud, no more complete.

Is it a sin that I should be

So virile, cocksure, full of fun,

That youth's tidal spirit we

Find adventure in the gun?

There's tropism in the flashing sword,

Tho I'm not taking you to task,

Yet why is this our doom, Lord?

Do you mind if I ask?

God, my thoughts are in such a daze,

This whole thing seems so out of place.

Please sweep away the gray haze

That blanks out your mighty face.

You give us bodies that are strong

With which to please our many whims;

To enjoy must be a wrong

The smooth power of our limbs.

You sculptured from Creation's hod

And then you gave First Man his breath,

You give us all of this, God,

And then you give us death!

I haven't had the time, as yet,

To see the justice of my loss,

But if your plan requires it

Why, I guess you're the boss.

It isn't that I mind to die

I know that that's for you to say.

What I want to know is why

Must you take your gifts away?

I'll come when you give me the nod,

My life was by your grace, I know.

But if we are your image, God,

Why can't you keep us so!

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