Interview Poem by Joseph S. Josephides

Oriana*, you ask if I am a politician, dressed as priest.
This cassock hides my frock that you can not see.
I’m priest, ahead to suffer together with my people.

You wonder if I plot. I only machinate my cassock,
I fix the legs of the chair they had asked me to sit on.
Others wanted me be in cosmic clubs of mighty men.

Oriana, I’m mighty if I can defeat myself, in first place
if I discolor the passions, wear a smile when I suffer,
if I nourish the folks with fruits grown in my garden
thanks to the manure that some flung in my face.

I'm not a saint, you insist. Yet, I’m honest and I believe;
the butcher, not a politician, is the one to cut meat.
One says, they have trapped me in the net. When child
a butterfly taught me how to escape from a dip net,
a red goat how to discover grass under the snow bed.
I compromise scarcely but honesty I hold up the hope
to raise up the adorable small stones of my country.

Let them not appraise my mission with a praise;
minor is the meaning of statues and glorious words:
‘charismatic, clear-sighted, responsible, brave...’

Oriana, impartial history eventually will judge us all.
Here I feel blessed-makarius for the people loved me,
forgiving the mistakes intruded without any intention.


© JosephJosephides