Pious Parrots Poem by Nathara Siriwardhana

Oh, how devout, how devout you seem at dawn,
Praying so loud, praying so proud, before the yawning dawn—
Like peacocks preening holy feathers,
You strut your faith in changing weathers.

Your incense clouds hide hearts of stone,
So sweet the smoke, so sweet—yet so alone.
You chant like parrots, word for word,
A flawless act, rehearsed, absurd.

See how you scold, scold, scold the 'sinful' crowd,
Your halo's bright—so bright! —your voice so loud.
Kindness? Oh, what a foolish seed,
Better save your breath for greed.

You toss a coin—just one, just one—at Buddha's feet,
Then kick the beggar on the street.
Your Sunday masks fit snug, fit neat,
A perfect match for holy deceit.

Bless you, saints, saints of empty creed,
May your prayers bloom like your greed—
Grow tall, grow wide, grow wild and free,
A garden of hypocrisy.