Cloistered Soul

[DWAYNE]

"My" people
sit in palaces of sanctimony
in celebration of themselves.

While beggars squat
in shadows
beyond the window's stain,
starving for the host,
thirsty for the chalice.

And yet,
the parish minions,
for dearth of faith bemoaning,
in weekly congregation,
habitual commemoration,
to herald,
that which,
they refuse to take up.

On knees bent,
neither heart,
nor garment,
rent,
yet, lift their pleas,
that angels stoop to rescue,
he whom indifference imperils.

Now,
bless the bounty,
in shades of gardens sown,
bend
to reap the gluttonous harvest,
of a cloistered soul.

[imrogue]

intriguing...nice poem!

[Parkinsonspoet]

there is much injustice in the world and this is a poignant reminder of inequitable expectations

[John Wertz]

To reflect on the "true" meaning of Jesus' words "The poor you will always have with you," A thought provoking write.

[MHenry]

Compelling reflection, this deep admonition, Dwayne, which causes one to wonder if Church is truly a sanctuary for the soul, or a salve for the guilty conscience.
But dispensing with the either, or, argument, I suppose it is some of both, as well as a means of establishing order and control in a dizzying collision of idealism, cynicism, and reality.

[AlexandratheLate]

Very compelling Dwayne.

[Sumyanna]

Oh wow - fabulous lines. Truly love they way you lay them out. Precious!

[grant hayes]

Religion as sufficient performance of that which it extols: reverence can be a bitch. Good write, Prophet.