Monday, October 16, 2006


How restful is the sleep of faith
in piety’s lumpy bed?
What peace to hold as sacrosanct
each line of scripture read?
So easy just to take as truth
whatever you were told,
by men of God,
when you were young;
unyielding grip on tight belief,
all doubts unsprung.

Yet I was wary of this God,
this being, ever hidden,
my questions quietly pushed aside,
all probing words forbidden.

I often dwelt on what I’d learned
from skirted men who smelt of smoke.
A talking snake who’d damned us all,
and Adam and Eve who’d caused the Fall.
In Satan’s flames that always burned,
sinners' souls were spitted, turned
‘til all had blackened on Hell’s Fire……

They asked me if I’d join the choir;
it was an offer I couldn’t refuse…

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