Midweek Review
Oases in a Scorched Isle
By Lynn Ockersz
Elders bowed in sublime prayer,
And having a communal meal,
In a spirit of selflessness,
For those close to their hearts,
Now among the dearly departed,
In revered Homes for the Aged,
Are among the only oases of relief,
In the scorched, desert Isle,
Vast in wretchedness and deviance,
And wilting in power struggles,
Not showing signs of early closure,
While the waters of its spirituality,
Drip dangerously to a halt,
Leaving behind a rattle of Dry Bones,
In mass graves raising posers,
Blithely side-stepped by top quarters.