by Jennifer Fenn
Beams of morning sun
Shine through the shattered stained glass
Of the destroyed Haitian cathedral
Onto the people
Gathered outside
For the first mass
Since the earthquake.
They shine on a lone woman
In pale blue
With a bright red and yellow turban
As prayer lines
Her toughened, brown leather face.
Amid the shouts of starving mobs
Clamoring for the food
Held up at the ports,
The wailing grandparents
Lying outside the crumbled nursing home
And the smoking stench
Of mass cremation,
Her lines deepen
As she wrings her hands harder,
Like Mary
In determined intercession.
Jennifer Fenn’s poems have been published in The New Verse News, Time of Singing, Nomad's Choir and Write On Poetry Magazette.
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