charade

they say their prayers here.
white marble stone arches
glow dutifully radiant,
imprisoning the crescent moon
like a painting of a holy night.

sunsets-ful of marigold
stripped mindlessly
into bruised petals for
a charlatan’s offering, wilted,
retreat into warm shadows.

pale staircases shimmer,
rich with obligatory faith
and schooled adoration,
ringing bawdy laughter amongst
idle scrutiny of blasphemous attire.

intricate shadow of branches
of a broad and blessed tree
in the halo of a generous moon,
flow across a courtyard
in rivulets of darkness.

they chant their empty verses
here, dizzy amidst scented oil lamps
that fade into coarse daylight,

a little girl, barefooted, belled anklets,
peeks through a rift in the mob
to study a house crow pecking
at an abandoned broken coconut.

T. E. Pyrus

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2 thoughts on “charade

  1. This was a beautiful flow of honesty. My favorite verses being: “rich with obligatory faith and schooled adoration” as well as “they chant their empty verses here, dizzy amidst scented oil lamps
    that fade into coarse daylight”. This clearly depicts how conditioned and mind-numbing worship and faith has become. They chant, they burn their candles, they kneel, and they pray, and yet it has all become empty practices. And bravo on the title “Charade”.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. I feel like the world needs more honesty. I was a little afraid of hate responses to this poem because, y’know, routine tradition is important to some folks… But I’m so relieved to find this instead. Thank you so much! ❤

    Like

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