He speaks to the crowd.
The voice, a sonorous velvet music
lifting the heathens.
Several tongues trace longing lips,
hanging on every word.
He passes judgement.
The crowd become a frenzied mob.
Possessed by his rapture,
they inflict such malicious violence.
C & K 
Political violence is horrible especially when it seems to be mixed with religion. Thank you for your insightful poem.
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