Reply to Steve Partington's ‘Nuns. Khainga takes leave from his walk down K-Street to peer through the Convent.
At the convent, we had come from a learning excursion
For the mass of st Joseph
Each virgin brood, was beheld in her headscarf
Each carried a standard book of hymns
That she may sing
One of those present, our new catechist
Led in a golden bell
The voice variation, it was done well
And the song, it vibrated from the cathedral
To assail my ears.
They knelt in suppplication, and remained hopeful
For a spiritual nourishment
The Parish priest anointed all, and then went.
Inside my cubicle, I nursed a mental affliction
That confined me on a chair
I was the rebel girl, from the village
Who rejected a superstious affirmation,
And I turned down a padre's earthly affection
So, now in seclusion, my cloths drenched in tears
I shall - but wail.
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