No piercing siren to rise you,
No flaring light to guide you,
No nearby neighbour’s love to reach you,
Dying village.

No caring friend to conceal you,
No towering soldier to defend you,
No rushing firemen to quench you,
Dying village.

No speeding ambulance to ferry you,
No humble priest to bury you,
No Red Cross pennant to fly for you,
Dying village.

No urgent phone to ring for you,
No loud-pitched radio to plead for you,
News is blocked in fear of you,
Dying village.

No strong one comes to hold you,
As children are torn from you,
A stranger’s voice to wail for you,
Dying village.

Dawn comes late for you,
Vultures chuckle over you,
Our deepest human shame is you,
Dying village.

Too few prophets spoke for you,
Years of scribes and Pharisees denied you,
Evil powers abandoned and beggared you,
Dying village.

The world turned its back on you,
May God himself be good to you,
And hope renew in you,
Dying village.