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IMAGES OF PARIAHS





The peripatetic urban nomad with no place to

Lay his head, is a reminder of the Son of Man

With not even a lair as a fox has a den.



The achondroplastic dwarf, an anomaly of a

Gentleman, atop a drawbridge, stymies the rush

Hour commuter by failing to pull the lever.



The assortment of pariahs; crones, trolls and

Train hoppers; find their niche with tribes of

Their ilk below the threshold of our conscious.



The tumbling of the august clowns, along with

Hoboes of a sad mien, gives birth and death along

With bitter berries, charcoal and the first snow.



We come to grow bewildered by so many that

Cannot be saved on Schindler’s List even if the

Great patriarch Abraham returned. Why is it so?



We have become so muddled over righteousness

That priest now put us to sleep with incantations

Of fallenness that the pariah cannot be repratriated.



The beggar in us continues to reach out in darkness

As the donkey carries the holy family to Egypt. Shadows

Are everywhere as we hide behind pollarded windows.



The Pharisees are blind even though they say they see.

Gethsemane was dark Peter said as the master’s image

Appeared as a pariah on the belt buckle of the Roman.