ProseSatire

Not in worship

Hand raised amid unbroken waters
Mas’baha paced
Never to the face
In worship to any deity.

Sanitizers walk insanity
Away from a scared scar-faced world
Moored to a bay of pathogens.

Libertarians and clerics besiege comfort
In cages abandoned by prisoners
Yet cry to hit the trails for commerce and tithes in designer masks.

The chaplain talks divine lessons
But history aches with lesions
As the day drowns
In dirges sang by mourners from a distance

The warships’ lockdown will be gone
Worship will be back
We shall scream at God, Again
Squawk in tongues, Again
Cast dodgy spells and demons, Again
Heal spiritual afflictions, Again
Prophesy the obvious, Again

Glorify foolishness in high places, Again.
Leave common sense un-stocked, Again
Travel 8000 miles to cure catarrh, Again

Until it rains sulphur, Again
Remember not to forget
This warfare that defied warships, worship and potbellies in flowing gowns.

Featured image courtesy Farabale.

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