Religion

Flinging wide the heavy doors,
smooth and cold the marble floors.
Precious relics glisten,
frozen angels listen,
statues view the empty pews.

In finery and rank they move
to their appointed place,
blank stares on each pasty face,
bloody history whispers in the dark,
on this place it leaves its mark.

Outside in the falling drizzle
a small flame starts to fade and fizzle
hidden by the pageantry.

In weather foul and fair,
seeking the broken, bruised and lonely,
their church, the street,
their faces unnoticed,
precious sons and daughters
scatter seeds of love and hope.