Must we meet each Sunday?
In front of others , we should pray.
The man to my left,
from our lambs voice is deaf.
The woman to my right,
has lost her holy sight.
They summon him on the Sabbath;
but curse him when they bathe in lives sins.
Where they never win.
I have seen that man two pews up, beat his wife.
I have seen her loose her fight.
He would beat her black and blue.
I wonder if the congregation has a clue?
That man to my left sitting in the front row, is obsessive and his family will not thrive.
There is a woman to my right, she’s an alcoholic and soon will die.
The preacher is not wed.
He is sleeping in a woman’s bed.
I have been to many holy places.
And have seen many holy faces.
One visit is all it took.
One visit to get one look.
None of the places I have been,
have made me want to come again.
The End
If you refer to an earlier work entitled ‘Churched’, you will read that my journey to religion has not been an easy one. Though I wrote this poem many years ago, I still see this pattern in the faces of congregations today. It is easy to see the sin in people and let that sin remove you from Christ. I know in my own religious journey, I have transposed my sins and the sins of others onto the face of God.
Taken from a collection I’ve entitled ‘The Destruction of Me’. Started in the 8th grade through college. Not a published book.
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