Rosemary Nissen-Wade #28.2: Watching a Religious Parade on TV

Watching a Religious Parade on TV

Robed in white, the Cardinal

is walking in slow processional,

holding a decorative shepherd's crook –

symbol of caring for his flock.

It is a younger priest I see,

staring through years of memory:

smooth-faced, all those decades back,

and suited in serviceable black.

The tilt of his head, his sober expression,

radiated concern, compassion.

The Church would set the matter right.

Later I read his useless report.

That was for an investigation

into conditions at a city prison.

We put in front of him every detail 

that made the place a renowned hell-hole.

An ex-teacher there, I was at that time

part of a group for prison reform.

His purpose, it afterwards seemed to me,

was to absolve the Church of responsibility.

When he says that it was long ago;

he can't recall, he doesn't know

about pedophile priests and child abuse,

or the cover-up of which he's accused –

I remember that young career priest,

schooling his face to appear earnest

as mothers and sisters of prisoners

confided horrors, fighting back tears.

He nodded, spoke softly, listened well,

took notes, asked questions, got it all.

There was also my long, written submission.

Months of waiting. Then his call to inaction.

His back is hunched, his face is red;

his gaze downcast, not heavenward.

There are floppy jowls and wrinkles now.

Facts might be smoothed away; not his brow.

It's very un-Christian of me, I know –

but then I am not a Christian, so –

I confess that seeing him bowed with age,

morose and shuffling, gladdens my rage.

(Been trying to write this a long time.)