Commemory

the wailing is both intermittent and

never ending.

standing upon a stage lit by fear and

candlelight,

in the absence of a prophet,

who am I trying to reach?

I call to you, but only echo. I am tired

of listening to the sound of my own voice. 

will you not let me hear you, just this once?

all I am is one beggar

asking another beggar

where to find bread. but instead–

‘leave your pews,’ the words fall out of my mouth. 

I am my own audience, alone.

‘leave them and fall into the light.’

-pilgrimage