“Thy kingdom come…”

The one alone
exorcizes his solitude
with the hard-bitten company
of his antidepressants.

The disabled one
drags along his disability
through the grievous corridors
of the Foundation for Chronic Invalids.

The man in great old age
imagines the warmth of the family,
there in the chill damp
of the Home for the Care of the Elderly.

The one imprisoned
counts his days
in the vain hope
that the love he’s been deprived of
will, like a sunbeam, make it
past his cell’s bars.

The one ravaged
by the curse of war
wanders about as if lost
in the rags of his life.

And I
submerged in devotion
to my spiritual elevation
whisper: “Thy kingdom come...”

4 Sep. 2004