Walking a path that is unfamiliar
Kicking stones at the crossroad and the
Crucifix faces places unknown with
Hands outstretched pointing the way
And while it never touches me
Each step wanders further from
That sanctuary for poets and martyrs known
And the questions of evolution and faith collide
With smoke of incense lace pattern’s rise
Over an alter of Saints and Sinners
That we trust naively with each step
Taking our chances with Hope as our Guardian Angel
Rosary beads fall gradually to the ground
Slipping from the grasp of a zealot’s hands
Yet I continually take the time
To reflect on bended knees
With little to no anticipation
That my prayers will ever be heard –

© 2016 TrilbyYates