Last Amen Poem by Jordan Legaspi

Last Amen

The crowd pressing to the empty hallowed nave
As their chant to the picturesque parade of god
Echoed –the whisper of devotion from a priestly tribe
Descendant of the great lords of once a renowned land;
Slowly the voices died and malicious silence had spoken
As their incense fumed the sinister and cold air
The charm of the ancient tradition of this folk and kin
To at peace the spirit after a hundred years of war;
The enchantment of the sinister –the masked-man
Ruled the hour as they in their knees bore the beast
The winged creature taught to be an ageless man
Whose name is divine, praised and feared across the east;
And it was offered; the spoil has marked its secret crime
The fertility of blood –the feast; the cult of the damn.