Houses of the Holy

Houses of the Holy

Churches and hospitals

Get larger

The buildings grander

The ceilings higher

Decorated in style

Designs refreshed

To reflect the times

Less classical

Than once they were

With a pretence of humility

In the hospital

With a rural pastiche

An industrial landscape

The ascent of man

A post-modern facade

Wrought iron structures

Contorted like broken limbs.

In the church

They love grandeur

A slap in the face

Of the poor

Icons flaunted

As a touch of class

The devils in the detail

Of an ungodly charade.

Too many people live in small houses

Getting smaller

With every redevelopment.

Sorry people crowd

In dark alleyways

In front of braziers

Glowing red in the dark.

Warming cold hands

Clasped in prayer

For a miracle of redemption

For god knows what.

As the promises of brighter

Futures

Flicker in the firelight

Casting shadows against the wall

Innocent acts transmute

Grotesque parody

Bacchanalian orgy.

Even the shadows pretend

To be having a good time

When the truth is hidden

Within

The bowed head, the meek response

The permanent belief

In a rite of passage

The order of things.

The golden thread

In the suits of the gentry

Sown in

By the woebegone

With swollen fingers

Rung out arthritically

Over the brazier

In the alley

With the cats and dogs

In the shadow of the church,

Where once there stood

A poorhouse.

They are all poor houses now.