He felt ostracised from all kith and kin,
His acerbic tongue lashed out too often.
Life’s challenges had tempted his efforts,
Losing was not in his psyche or outlook.
Hypocrites trod lightly on his toes in fear,
His sermons were loud and passionate.
Love was a cool affair in his experience,
Rebutting closeness once it ever evolved.
Words of any kindness stuck in his craw,
His flock sat riveted into their cold pews.
Belief was unquestioning in any measure,
One wondered if a softer heart ever existed.
He stood his ground upon the marble pulpit,
Black robes encased his cold human persona.
His brows lines always furrowed in an angst,
The God of love must surely frown upon him.
Those virtues etched within biblical soundings,
Surely rancour can in time accept malleability.
This shepherd’s self-possession quite misguided,
Bitterness served to isolate any viable godliness.
©Copyright Eileen T O’Neill 04/05/2015