What do you say,
Man with the long beard.
Slouching your soul—
Staring out at the pier.

I watch the birds of the air:
They neither sow nor reap,
Nor gather into barns,
They’re blasphemously ignored,
Yet, you,
Man with the long beard,
Greet with wheat,
As they flock aside your feet.


Man and women pass by alike,
Hiding scoffs under scarves;
None dare to openly disgrace thee.

I watch you, my reduced savior,
Your toothless grin exulting in finality.
You melt into the gritty world,
among us—

Give me your final blessing,
Man with the long beard.
Slouching your soul,
Staring out at the pier.