Your words
Are like muesli
To the lips
Of shivering
Earthquake victims.
Your actions,
The pure faith
Of a tranquilised
Church organ player,
All passion
And trembling
Christ thoughts.
Your history
Is a myriad
Of slightly chipped
Gravestones
From an old story cemetery,
All dust yellow memoirs
And lickety-spilts.
Your church
Is a troubling place.