His Holiness

Chanting incantations, tempered

Brow looking to the sky for the

Promised rain. Blinking,

Expectations for mother earth to

Let the milk fall from her

Swollen bossom. Frozen joints and

Still but actively moving. He is

Pushing, digging, and burying the

Memories. He will forget his travels,

The children left behind. Exile is

Just a word. It does not include or

Convey the pain. In between the

Crossed planks and haloed tower,

You do not see the red and scarred

Face of an every man, family-less

Homeless, shelterless and loveless being.

His Holiness wil weather the drought.

He doesn'tunderstand how he

Can be unable to command her.

Nature disobeys him.

Reviews

[Lennie R. Walker]

HA, god got a kick in the a*s.
Easy to read and powerful at the same time.
Truly you are a gifted author.

[Naomi Montana Walsh]

wow..this was truly a wonderful poem..every word conveying meaning and substance and not over written just the right amount to get the point that hits home..