In an Unbelieving Age

[theirishsea]

the angel, the arrow command
"OUT"
the old morality play
the traffic goes only one way

the wind is mixed with rain
trees half-bare
sleepers in nightclothes
homes in flames
iron fences colder
the walls that enclose the garden
keep the vagrants out
seem higher

groups of mourners hurry to churches
scurry into their wombs
where they pray without ridicule
pray to everything invisible

tears drip from the cracks overhead
run down the eyes
of painted saints

outside
the melodrama
authored by an indifferent physics

sanity asks
how can it be that those we loved
are dust?

angels appear in clouds
everything a sign

O God
save the tortured mind!

[dadio]

Well said. O the times, o the manners!