Commerce Still Ancient

You warmed up to idols, then bought or bartered

sensuality for pleasure, enjoying life until

the money ran out and  the years

wrinkled skin and depleted muscle.

 

Nothing was left that could be traded,

so you uselessly wonder when your limp

first appeared and your eyesight blurred, as

if identifying a moment could’ve meant

a never ending summer.

Who needs unquenchable thirst?

 

But here you are, heart beating, lungs breathing

moving slow and nearly blind, able to afford nothing

but today, tomorrow only a hopeful maybe.

What you really want cannot be sold.

 

Those pagan temples – and their

statues of false gods – fell

around your face and shoulders,

the world you’ve known imploded.

 

All the doves and goats sacrificed, all

that incense burned, all those murmured prayers,

so confident in what was true – like a roulette wheel table faith

after the decision between the red and the black

was made – but why does the hope that

preceded still feel more fresh

than the disappointment that followed?

 

Copyright: 2015