Tiny Hands (Au Revoir) Redux

I awoke in the summer
 The sun struck the earth to furnish us with fire
 But jealous hands fashioned their cross to a sword
 Brandished their gift as a torch to burn the light
 "To the dead, we owe only the truth"
 The human condition
 Surveying the space between the nave, I saw my own infernal grave
 Existential imperfections
 We sat scrawling out prayers on scratched oak chairs
 Bullets bouncing off stonewall saints, laid to rest by our Forebear
 At their children, at the dissidence of despair
 This proximal milieu could close the door to the
 Closeness that keeps us inside the spaces that we hide
 My heart burns cold as life, leaves my daughter's eyes
 I am the mother of the dying, the dust, the denouement
 How can absence take my father's house?
 How can nothing take my daughter's life?
 Walk me out from this tomb
 If you are the gate, could you make a way?
 Come down from that cross
 Hold out your hands so I can see
 Je suis sorti vivant du four crématoire
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 Je suis le témoin sacré de l'église
 
 Je suis une mère qui a tout perdu
 This fire burns your name on my lips
 And this smoke chokes your song on my throat
 Now let death lynch my lungs
 I offer what's left of this withering tongue
 But oh, "No Exit"
 So bright as the light that shines behind the Son
 I leapt through stained glass saints
 To fall to the garden where we first began