Thirst
Thirst
There is the river of life called religion
Birds circle it with yellow lights gleaming on the wing
Before taking the plunge
Plants drink from its banks
People once visited this place
But moved on to golden promised sand
Replaced the Vatican Papal State for desert dwelling
They are all gone, expired, as expected
Not for lack of proper words in Latin
Or upbringing as you might think
They gave up such a simple thing
Like drinking, for having fun and lots of sun
Simply, there is no water in the outer land
There are younger plants in the desert
Related, perhaps cousins to other plants
Found by the river mentioned here
They too died in the arid world
They are gone, one and all, that’s all
Pope Francis walks along the river bank
He favors the water as the source of life
Thirsting for souls
Collects them like sea shells there
Fossilized, framed in history, demised
The mouth of the river is closed, shut down for now
We too, are no longer open, or for that matter, alive
Simply silenced, buried in the distant sand
As the river flows on to other lands, void of man
Copyright © Earl Schumacker | Year Posted 2014
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