The priest’s voice
The barber shaves my head as I grip tight to my chair
Thoughts of my childhood race through my mind
Each memory runs as a tear from my eye
A priest stands to my left
I look out the large window before me
A group has gathered
They talk and laugh amongst themselves
Then all take a seat
They stare at me, pointing at me
Some smile some jeer
Some look at me with contempt
I close my eyes as the last bit of hair falls across my face
The barber quickly brushes my neck and then walks away
I look around and see salvation to my left
To my right is the a door I shall never pass again in this life
As a hat is fit snug to my head
It takes me back to my those times…
A time when my mother would place my cap snug on cold mornings
In the distance, I hear the faint sound of the priest’s voice
As he half-heartedly attempts to save my soul
Panic rushes through my body when the bit is forced into my mouth
My panic is ten-fold when the hood is placed over my head
Nothing but darkness and that damned priest’s voice echoing through my head
The warden gives the order
Suddenly I can’t remember a sweeter sound
Than the priest’s voice
~Arnold Bailey