He called out, the little boy; he called from above me for his mother.
I looked up at first because it sounded as if he was hanging from the
Cathedral ceiling. When I realized I wasn?t in the cathedral
But in an underground office I turned for the stairs.

Both parents were being summoned now, and his voice was
Rising in a fearful, angry crescendo.
?Why did you leave me here??
his accent echoed past me up the spiraling steps
and I looked back expecting to see a
small body huddling in the deeply shadowed corner
I must have overlooked.

Sound waves were playing tricks on me again
As my lantern found naught but stone.
I continued my ascent and came finally to the cathedral.
The Cathedral where all catacombs? deposit their putrid
Products. The small voice resounded like a trumpet
Around the pillars and off the walls; a serpentine green flame
Circling the marble and ricocheting within my mind;
A deadly bullet ready to snap some vital brain function.
I looked under the pews, each and every one, but he was not there.

I wondered if my search was in vain; perhaps it is a small girl
Rather than a boy and my selective sight has blocked her view.
Yes, that must be it.
I re-searched the entire Cathedral, each rotting corner,
Every rancid stone, the vile bibles entwined with blackened vines.
She was not inside.

I sat down in the confessions booth, the bullet in my brain brushing
Closer and closer with each passing.
The skeleton of a known righteous priest sat separated by the wall from me.
He turned his head toward me with half closed eye lids and opened his mouth:
?You cannot see with so much light, boy, open your eyes.?
The dust from his mouth settled on a bible, but seemed to burn off.
The voice was in my head.

Why did they leave me?


Yeah I'm really unsure about this one, tell me if you like it, or if you just like the overall idea. I don't know if it's finished yet, I might add more onto this one or I might make a second part to it or I might just leave it.