PORTICO
RELIGIOSO
Where were all the fiery men, and where have
they now all gone? We've missed them on the
mountaintops - flaming piles of stone and
rock,
flames burning rules into the stone-slab tablets,
burned faces and crazed creatures coming down.
Where there were, once, oh such stories to tell,
now rolling parkland dithers and waits. Long lines
of streamers and Amero-tourists clog the land.
-
Whatever song they may once have sung, now even
Bernadette has run from that : Lourdes and Lareto,
Masada and Temple Mount - all of that has a
faraway
groan and an echo of hate. And, anyway, why should
we wait for prepubescent girls to tell us what God's
Maiden speaks? It's all together, the old and the less
old,
together now, all of it, in a sickening bundle of
rubbish
we crave. No, I do not know why. Nor do I care.
-
Yet, tomorrow could bring another way of seeing -
another fiery land-break from the uber-vessel on high.
Words spoken, once more, in thunder and flame -
all
that ancient, sickening stuff over and over
again.
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