Waiting 

A forlorn man

Lay desecreated

Head against heart

His humble hands

Torn from crucifixes

He bowed heads

Tucked in bodies

Until he forgot

Would he not see

Would never do

But once he had

Once he knew

Once upon a time

 

He looked at white walls

Reddened and sinister

His body raised its head

Suckling won

And mandibles

Became glossolalia

Until Jesus came

And spoke

A hesitant absolution

 

He woke

Bent by the past

moved by its allure

waiting once again

for a mirrored age