Nancy L. Meek

HAUGHTY

Oh, if I had been able to touch you
before you ascended to the Father,
your garment dragging the ground
just as filthy as my own, I’d smile,
revel, my heart a roaring fire; but now,
I cannot reach you, your too-tall spire,
for having never been there… above
peasant folk still humble here below…
I see only dark, blinded by your crown.