In the name of peace
we kill.  And in the name of God
we do as well.  And in honor of the sun,
the moon, the waves and wind —
slaying, tearing of flesh, drinking of blood.
We did those things, have always
done those things, we still do those things.

Then we bend to pick up our children,
tickle their chins, speak of freedom
and love to them. Touch them with
our bloody hands. Sing to them
with gore on our jaws.  
What are we?  

We are the ones
who refuse to understand
what we are, who think
and have thought
for forty thousand years
that this is the era in which 
we will evolve, that this scheme
or this evocation of God
will make it real at last.

We are beyond
the reach of that,
of course.  We are 
in stasis, envious of the predators
who know how
to stop killing once they
are filled.