Some saw him as compassionate
A man of the cloth
Caring with tenderness his sheep
But I did not .
For me I saw an ego unsatisfied by
A childhood of expectation
Grown forgetful of his profession
By the unforgiving pull of disappointment
Such was his striving that nothing stood
In its way.
Not the virtues of religion or occupation
Laid them all down for another mark
On his cap, a token of goodness in the community.
But I could see the transparency of his gaze.
And never turned away.
But he sank in his cowardice of deceit.

Love Mary x