Rita

On long days says a blessing, for the drinkers and vagrants, all those others gone missing, a mind awash with waves, she rushes to this oasis, ignoring tourist games, on the island there's a mission, behind where cruise ships lay, she makes it her monument , she hears the wails, sees beach people like wraiths, dance by sun and caves , belayed by sons with issues, they are not to blame, she skirts around the kissing, makes an unlit foray, feels the convent's sweet gaze, its scented loving faith, touches ancient flame.