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Jun 25, 2010
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SITTING ON A TRIPOT
SITTING ON A TRIPOT The night, like any other, witnessedA convergence of community devoteesOn an annual pilgrimage of some sortIn praise of Allah, the MercifulRelics of religious wares displayedFor the pious faithful followersWe woke up as guests of the peopleTo catch a glimpse of a send-off
To the departing spirit a masquerade The dawn broke to revealedRaised long bamboo sticksPinned skyward to the groundLike a goal post for a soccerSpanning both sides of the tarOn a Minster road in OtaThree poles away, in betweenFrom a famous T-junctionWhere Anglican built a school Like a flag of a lost empireA mat and white cloth on a stringStained with blood and oilDotted in alternate parallel linesA lifeless cork hung danglingHead severed for a local godA sight to behold by passers-byThe lucidity of the willful forfeitureBuried in the hearts of the flock
To the departing spirit a masquerade The dawn broke to revealedRaised long bamboo sticksPinned skyward to the groundLike a goal post for a soccerSpanning both sides of the tarOn a Minster road in OtaThree poles away, in betweenFrom a famous T-junctionWhere Anglican built a school Like a flag of a lost empireA mat and white cloth on a stringStained with blood and oilDotted in alternate parallel linesA lifeless cork hung danglingHead severed for a local godA sight to behold by passers-byThe lucidity of the willful forfeitureBuried in the hearts of the flock
— t. reflexion, Jun 25, 2010
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Critiques
anonymous1
15 years 11 months ago
Hi TR
t. reflexion
15 years 11 months ago
Hi Lisa