That Man Above Poem by Jerry Pike

That Man Above

With due reverence they glided the pavement
black from top to toes, a drapers excess of curtain folds,
falling down into today’s path.
Quietly their averting eyes, watched the cracks,
no acknowledgement of me or mine,
no men to cause desecration of the scene,
just a gentle religious walk,
with covered and bowing heads, accents full on.
What is all the fuss about, just another religion and it’s ways,
dissecting their own imaginary Red Sea, and stirring up waves,
so the rest can walk underwater.
Clothed with the day-glow black stamp of linen,
to tell the world, my religion rules, beware.
I suppose their god is still like mine.
We try looking forward in the same direction,
but I see no place our eyes can meet,
no crossing point, no lightening of anyone’s load,
just heavy weather.
But each to their own,
and the nuns amble on.

Strange how a surprise word
Can change our attitude.