Poetry: While Listening to Church Music

WHILE LISTENING TO CHURCH MUSIC

Fly, fly to lands afar; forget your heritage;
              It chokes but it's there -
                            0 Mysticism - Christ Resurrected
              The next world is near - Heaven is ours
0 Wilted death -Craven flowers - Mad leaves
                            Rustling insanity

I am a child of dusted bones and flamed lanterns -
                                   of endless
              Ritual - deep music - hated infidels
                                   but loved bishops
Popes and poets, Kings and heretics are my
                                    ancestors

A heritage of blooded lances - rusted swords -
              Diseased men - shrunken women - feeble
                                   children
And books - books - books -

Books to break the backs of slaves and monks -
              Precious volumes, yellowed pages, weighted
                                   words
              Paneled codes
And God, fearsome, cruel, all knowing, all
                                   powerful
My Lord of Hosts and Your Virgin Mother
Fly, fly to lands afar; find your gurus
                                   But don't forget your priests.

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