Whispers penetrate flesh walls,
secrets resound like a melody
within the temple of mind.
A church choir of boys
sing Latin,
a tongue they never understood,
yet made beautiful in spite.
An angelic host of innocence,
perched in perfect rows;
perverse men licking dry lips
conduct harmony, as
chorus echoes in rounds
confined by marble stone
laid by hypocritical hands.
In time holy walls stand,
coffers full and overflowing
while souls remain empty.
Yet pride crumbles the benevolent,
corrupt tongues stumble awkwardly
over the dulled ivory teeth of time.
Stained glass fragments let in truth,
rays of light stream through darkness
reflecting a shattered faith sanctuary
built upon broken bones of man.
©Sabrina Escorcio
September 2017
Photo Credit, Sam Webber illustration for “the Priest That Preyed” – New York Times
Whisper and the Roar 
The yeast of the Pharisee
has the bitter taste of hypocrisy.
There is to be judgement,
with all the weight of eternity.
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This a such a powerful poem and brings out the shame and injustice still prevalent.
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It was meant to bring a voice to the many who had none.
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Yes so true
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Reblogged this on Sabrina Escorcio.
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