Disillusion

Those
Late nights
In white rooms
With babbling tv hosts
And not enough
Caffeine
To deal with
Mary, Mother of Jesus,

Outstretched hands
And no personal space
In impersonal spaces,

Wailing and gnashing,

Prying of the faithful
And the gathered
Leading to the rape
Of the sacred,

Inability to do
Anything
But watch you
Slip away,

Amount to ashes;
Lying in a tray
Sitting in an urn
Carried off in the wind