Betrayed By Earth
Barely eight and avid of pure spirituality,
I frequented the garden of a monastery
with marble statues reminiscing their glory;
silent eyes of cold stone--their untold story.
In this cloister, pious nuns tended to infants
with bony cheeks and lips like cracked soil,
those not in danger, never heard bells toll.
Beautiful babies abandoned by young mothers
with bawdy sins, they left them in cotton cloth--
succumbing to guilt that divested them of worth.
Then the holy sisters* lifted them to the Lord's angry face,
He should have cursed the wombs of deliberate disgrace!
He knew the tiny angels were betrayed by Earth, not Heaven;
such was the loudness of their screams emitting horrendous pain!
There love, piety, tenderness and prayer coesisted so well;
growing much stronger--they gathered under the tinkering bell.
I returned after ten years of missed enlightenment,
they looked sharp giving off a glow of amorousness;
they recognized me and displayed sheer excitement,
their souls had found calmness--hearts of sacredness.
* Holy sisters: nuns
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