Walking
down a street,
a
simple walk, unencumbered,
I
am assailed, afflicted
tempted
by the idols,
idols
with jeweled eyes,
enveloped
in smoky incense,
pungent,
swirling around
their
stone feet, attended
by
their servants offering
bodies
for a small fee,
a
contribution to the gods.
The
music moves among
them,
drowning the cries
of
those cooked in oil,
those
who turn their heads
from
the gods, the incense,
the
servants, the music,
the
hearts scalded and
seared.
Photograph
by Peter Griffin via Public
Domain Pictures. Used with permission.
Glynn - This is so specific, and yet I don't know where it is. I think that's the point. It could just as easily be my hometown as an exotic Buddhist village. The jewels, the smoke, the bodies offered, the hearts scalded.
ReplyDeletesounds like mardi gras
ReplyDelete