Lublin, Poland
by Monika Eberhard		    
 
There is a small church in Lublin
Where the faithful go to pray
And pass unfeeling, uncaring by
The beggars who wait, day after day.

Inside the church is sterile quiet;
The stillness and the architecture
Magnify every slightest sound.

A wooden altar hides the stain
On a cracked, decaying wall of paint,
And kneeling before it are the faithfully bound.
Does a Druid enter and make a magic sign?
No, it's just an old women
Who takes comfort from the painful kneeling
On stone with faded design.

People pray fervently to portraits
Of a women and child,
Who holes his head up well, for a newborn.
("Thou shall have no gods beside me!")
Above the women, clouds are torn.

Behind a few statues serene-like faces
In anguish at the destruction of a world
That started falling apart before it started existing,
And one can decide on its pattern.


 
  
Mutants from the Island of Dr.. Moreau
(Half naked man, half animal)
Stare with wide, wild eyes
At a wise magician being tortured.
When he finally dies, they cheer.
In the church there is an alcohol smell.
Only a dog could tell if it is beer,
Or sweetest wine for faithful people
To drink at the sound of a bell
And pretend (just make-believe) that it's blood.

All the while, the people in the church
(Some stylishly dressed in black and white
Pray fervently to the dying man,
Hoping someday to become a winged mutant.

Candles flicker in the echoing silence.
A child's innocent laughter
Is quickly extinguished.		  
 
 
Monika was born in Brazil, and raised in the USA .   Her mother is Polish, and her father - Brazilian.  She graduated from the University of Texas in Austin with the degree in journalism.   She loves Poland, and always looked forward to her summer trips there.  She took classes at  the Jagiellonian University in Krakow, and also taught English to the Polish students. 
Monika lives in Austin.

Other poems by Monika:   Scenes from a Polish Village  -  K.L. Auschwitz