O Princes Give Up Your Thrones

I was never anyone’s

Priestly whore.

But I feel sorrow for those

Who truly are.

But I can bear no longer

Hear the news anymore!

Why so many? So often?

All those years ago?

All coming now in the light.

Didn’t they see their names

Written by Christ in the sand,

All those many years ago?

For their blindness what do they have to show?

Except, human ruins.

O Princes banish them all

And yourselves step down from your thrones

Before you can count under your feet anymore bones.

O Peter, in any other name, give the Keys to the East

And your occidental thrones may be occupied by more Worthy souls,

O Constantinople, the doors, the doors!

Close them on all those Betrayers of so many little souls

So that we all can give rest, soon, healing comes to the least and the best.

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Kilmer Poetics Journal