By | 1 May 2020

as if their passion is a shroud against the sun they
gather en-masse for the communion, feasting on
the body and the blood of the other, those who are
denied entry, who know the meaning of fire.

the fields of the parish are aflame, the sky is dark
with thunder, in despair they smoulder in the pews
eating bibles to survive, burning coins into their eyes
refusing to open the door for the new.

we stand in fields of soot watching as churches
burst ablaze, kindling our sacred fires with a discretion
of faith, we are nibbling on the biddings of others,
guiding our offspring across thorns.

from the darkness of night the sky is lightning
the focus is on the present day, and tomorrow
the churches are still burning and some of us
are trapped inside.

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