Obeisance To Fear Poem by Alexander Onoja

Its six o'clock says the evening bell,
Priests walk by isle of burning candle lights.
Its unfathomable how their whispered words can't tell,
the reason the Bishop is out of sights.
But lull'd to calmness, then succeeds a breeze,
with the lights out, thick darkness grew.
Afraid of death, they scurried to their knees,
as an ugly, horrific silhouettes came in view.

The lights lit up as the choir sang,
a thousand voices as the church bell rang.
They heard a sudden cry of fear,
escaping the impending fear, they ran.
Leading the marathon, the priests were bare,
their strides resumed dust, whence they began.

They ate dust as they stumbled down,
and in dust they were equally made,
they stopped to breath with faces brown,
as sinful tears grew beneath their shade.

Amidst the chaos without disguise,
the Bishop's doubt was no longer left to soliloquise.