Walking Contradiction

Watching the shepherds ascend

Towards the ambiguous splendour,

We systematically process

Behind them; the same old faces

And a few odd converted complexions.

I follow the line of flock and involuntary

Descend to the ground before the leaders:

Take, eat; this uncertain replica which is

Placed upon my cupped hands.

Automatically entering my throat,

It wretches my body as I become

Dry, like the bony dying away corpse.

My knees tremble as I am commanded:

Drink this; wishing for instant relief,

Cannibalism overtakes every obeyer.

My parched body is scorched as every drop

Flows like a ceremonial river and my forehead

Stings in agony after this weekly torture,

After having been “cleansed” by the Supreme Being.

Feeling abnormally weak I depart, one after

Another, to reflect this ancient routine.

My existence is too great to be cleansed by the almighty thing;

Something which my contradiction cannot comprehend.


© Clare Abbott


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