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And still I hear it

on and on

in the hidden corners of my mind

that eternal scream

which echoes

down the corridors of time,

refusing to be silenced

it accuses me

of passivity, thus

an accessory to crime.

And still I see it

that spreading stain

a wound that never heals

that bloodied mud

that asks me where I was

that asks me what I saw:

all the children dying

in the hidden corners

of a distant foreign famine,

in a small forgotten war.

So I pray my prayers

I pay my tithe

I read my Bible every day,

I live in plenty

I sleep in peace,

and offer praises to Our God:

that though you are there,

I am here,

and so your pain is far away,

a different world

I pray to never know;

for I hope to live a blessed life

where my hands are clean,

my heart stays pure,

and there'll be no stains on me.

And yet, and yet,

there are those awful moments

unguarded and unbidden

when your screams finally reach my ears

and you ask me if my Jesus

really is the same Jesus

that was tortured for his faith

crucified for his love,

and there are those awful moments

I finally see the terror in your eyes,

and you make me wonder

if He will one day ask me

where I was and what I saw

when His children were all dying

in a distant foreign corner

in a small forgotten war.

[Kristin Jack is the Asia Coordinator of Servants. He and his family lived in Cambodia for 17 years. A book of his poetry, entitled 'Poetry and Prophecy' is available from Servants.]