Cities Of The Plain Poem by gershon hepner

You’ve wasted time if you have asked,
inside the cities of the plain,
for meaning; truth in them is masked
by vices that conceal their pain.
Beneath corruption you won’t find
their sorrow and their deep despair,
for both are out of sight and mind.
In Sodom, there are none who care
about their pain––they have no shame––
nor in Gomorrah, sinful city
that’s bound to it in fearful fame,
and feral people feel no pity
for people who’re in desperate need,
and see no meaning for the way
they live. They pay but little heed
to any natural laws, “You may”
the universal dispensation
provided by their judges whose
decisions frown on all frustration
attributed to old taboos,
and mantra for their pain-free might,
explaining why they’ve always lived
unwilling to tell wrong from right,
beside a dead sea, on a rift.