Of the Women

Pray or prey, which one was she needing? Was it a life of a Sister?Not like one with siblings. But of the women who had a cloak like material draped over their heads. Holy particles falling off their blinking halo. Causing their throats to react to the dust like sin of their former sisters who swore to remain united to the father, son and holy ghost. But willingly had their pureness ripped apart and stuffed into the beaks of screeching crows whose bellies ripe and filled with the flesh of the once clean. A child born from sin and foolish youth, tossed away to another orphanage, another Sister. Pools of tears fell from the eyes of the statue of Virgin Mary who wept for the cursed boy. But his screams and cries were much louder, while “Anosis” was branded and carved on the flesh on his back. Meaning Unholy, a name given by his mother before she was dragged out of her home, yelling curses to the people who threw stones at her.Words that should have never come out of a nun's mouth, did. Her cries of help were heard but never answered. Even when they were a whisper, then no more. Blood soaking the dirt beneath her, creating a painting so glorious. That when she took her last breath, she was then holy again. 10/17/16 Words Drowned In Tears Poetry