The Enchanting Air Dances A Whispering Tune

Religious Charade

i stared at him
across the table
remembering
that day, years ago
registering my children
for school

i was shocked at first
by his widely narrowed attitude
but later
walking home
my children were
unknowingly saved
from your religious illusion
of goodness

clearly, i remember
the ushered quickness
triggered by my divorced state
and the holy door that closed
slamming
into my worshipping heels of
"I'll call you, don't call me"
greeting

i had your smile
undivided attention
until the word "divorce"
meant "no room at the Inn"
for my children
at your tuition free school
even before you stood up
your eyes
pushed me out the front door

what did i say wrong?
was divorce a dirty word?
my children were condemned
because of the word "divorce?"
i was ushered outside
while you smiled
saying you would call

i was amazed
shocked at the coldness
the "get out" attitude
offered on that day, years ago
when you turned away
dismissing my children
as if diseased
with a new plague
or worse

i never went back
and
you never, ever called

i could see
today
here and now
nothing had changed
across the table
his fists still tightly clenched
to the twisted dollars
from unspoken sources
hidden by his huge smile
there were no questions
ever

squirming
avoiding
at all possible cost
the open truth assaulting
his collared moment
he finally spoke
with edgy concern
that dripped
nervously
down the side of his face
he dabbed unconsciously
at the moisture
trying to remember
recall
recognize
who i was

breaking the long, uncomfortable silence
he asked

"Hello, you are?"

my name didn't help
his confusion
or stop the flood of truth
from my unblinking stare
nor the unwanted sweat
that poured
down his face
soaking
the holy, white, pristine neckband

"I know who you are, Monsignor"
i offered quickly
with a knowing smile

avoiding my eyes
he blinked
fidgeting with his napkin
and thoughts
i was nothing
nobody
he concluded

turning his back
confidently
masked again
adjusting his blinders
cutting me out
he moved off into the crowd
the masquerade continued

charades anyone?

Virginia  J. Poli
August 28, 1999

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