by Coni T Poni
The church door
half opened
half afraid
Inviting my
spirit of inquiry
inside.
Polished
and
wholly weighty
to the eye,
the church door
I can
not
ignore.
Tip toeing
on the
very tip
of my toes
Shielding
the
sudden
shame
of my black
high heels
Leaving
sin
outside
Leaving
little sin
outside.
Pure
and agog
my mind
making room
for nurture
of the
chalice
inside this giant
gold scented mural
of mortar.
Marble
and polish,
Ivory
and oak
entice my
Piano fingers
to touch.
I am awakened
inside
the
purist
my mind
has been
since
innocence
flew hand
on groin
with
my hurried
adolescence
I am
awakened
for the
first time
inside my
new
and unfamiliar
pure mind
since
shamelessly
tip toeing
inside
this giant gold
scented mural
of mortar
Awakened
by sight
of
flesh painted
semi-naked
apostles
and
one
sorrowful
blue veiled
female effigy.
She
hoards
repentant tears
and
sacred baby
in arm.
I am
awakened
by the
Mural
of camaraderie
amongst
the flawless
semi- naked
apostle murals
the depth
of angst
beyond
their
diamond eyes
and
holy
divine mercy
in the
opening
of their
pleading
tainted
arms.
Inside
this giant gold
scented mural
of mortar,
pain
does not
elude the guest.
A place of peace
drowned
in the
shallow pit
of sorrow
Peace
shall
not
be
with
you.
A curtain
of black
fronting
the box
that divides
the guest
between sin
and
all forgiveness.
Station nine;
A crown
of blood stained
thorns
embalmed in guilt
confessed
and bound
of all sin
Sin for living
Sin for loving
Sin be as nature as
bark on tree.
Lust is
far beyond
I now.
I asked
not of death
for my sins.
The box
at station nine
tunnelling
behind the
curtain of black,
be my
object of virtu.
I confess
my
spartan
shame
in a box
inside
this giant
gold scented
mural of mortar.
My spartan shame;
A lack of faith
and little guilt
for
death
by daeity
© Coni T Poni 2012
