Shadows on the broken ceiling; <br />the half-caste night is revealing <br />painted plaster pieces peeling, <br />and falling on the floor. <br /> <br />Pious sermon, prayer-book reading, <br />mouthing words, never heeding <br />back-row baby bottle-feeding, <br />and bawling on the floor. <br /> <br />Solemn faces, little feeling, <br />body-weary, mind is reeling, <br />rheumic joints from prolonged kneeling, <br />and crawling on the floor. <br /> <br />Preaching, beseeching, sin-impeaching, <br />righteous clergy, barely reaching <br />congregation, rarely teaching, <br />but calling on God's Law. <br /> <br />Search for comfort in religion, <br />seeking sacred words of wisdom. <br />Never listen. No decision. <br />Merely stalling Evermore.<br /><br />David SmithWhite<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/shadows-7/
