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