Of Tombs and Tongues
I. Whited Sepulchres
They shimmer like saints. They talk of what
taints
The souls of the lawless and lowly.
Their aura
is bright. Their habits delight.
Their manners are flawless and holy.
Their fashionable sermons entice
The nosy, the nasty, and nice.
They bless with finesse. Their words effervesce
With pledges of permanent peace,
Plum pie in the sky, a unicorn’s sigh,
And rainbow-spun fun that won’t cease.
These devilish saviours of sheep
Have hoodwinked each Little Bo-Peep.
They’re crooked of mind. They’re guiding the
blind.
These beaming redeemers are fake.
Their syrupy terms are writhing with
worms.
They’re pushers of tosh on the take –
A strut of hornswoggling cocks
Ensorcelling fleeceable flocks.
They’re showy and shrewd, a sinuous brood
Of vipers of virtuous air.
They glister and grin. They slither and
spin.
They lure the lost lambs to their lair.
Their hearts are as hardened as stone
And cold as a catacomb bone.
It’s happened before. It’s written in lore
Ignored by the bumptious and bored.
When Truth is set free, then nailed
to a tree,
And pierced by a pitiless sword
To rise above lashings of lies…
The liars eye thunderous skies.
II. Blurt!
a pantoum
The tongue that dared question is still.
The mouth that once shot
off is shut.
The truth is unlikely to spill
In times of no if and no but.
The mouth that once shot off is shut
On deeds spreading death and dismay.
In times of no if and no but
There’s nothing worth saying to say.
For deeds spreading death and dismay
No raw or ripe words are in reach.
There’s nothing worth saying to say
When demons have demonized speech.
When raw and ripe words aren’t in reach
The truth is unlikely to spill.
When demons have demonized speech
No questioning tongue dare be still.
Susan Jarvis Bryant
