Letting in the Jehovahs

This is not a poem
abut hiding
this is not about being polite
taking the literature to bin

this is about a woman
who‘s life has collapsed
who knocks on the door is irrelevant.

Sitting round the kitchen table
the middle aged women sip water
open their bibles.

All her friends bear Witness, that I know
they visit weekly trying to save her soul
and since, maybe, we are at the end times
knowing God's real name might help sometime?

All her friends bear Witness, as you know
she doesn‘t mind them trying to save her soul
accepting what‘s approaching is too hard
weighing what can change, weighing what can‘t.

The world is full of fear, she fears the world
she wants to prepare and arm herself.

She never knew her silent role
she carried on like nothing's wrong
like nothing`s wrong at all

being round strangers
one false word, one repeated lie
she‘s on her high horse truth held high
rider number five.

Sitting round the kitchen table
the middle aged women sip water
opening their bibles.

Painting Four Horseman of the Apocalypse by Victor Vasnetsov