We came from all directions
a caravan of tatters
To the uninitiated
this passage of peoples, random as a rout
a seasonal ceremony perhaps
or word-of-mouth pilgrimage
to hear a prophet speak
Some of us left there
supplicant to the sorcery of healing
bewildered by the pitiless nature of affliction
and the base humanity that smoulders
in such fevered ashes
I’m recovering from a serious illness so it will be a while before I can fully participate with blog visits etc so ask patience for the patient
Tatters, ceremony & pitiless – from Kerry’s word list picked from the poems of Yeats for her challenge: Get listed
PoetryPix 