memories of church

May 6, 2013 § Leave a comment

his diatribe on morality
and miracle was
going into the third quarter
and I started to wonder
if I was up to the
challenge of
sustained attention

dragged in and chained to
a pew by believing,
well intentioned parents
I languished as tradition
shifted on the hard benches
and coughed up dust
in the echoey chamber –

for me,
it was in the throes of death

I hummed its requiem
while the seconds
stretched before me,
an unending chain of
rat turds leading
to fetid nests constructed
within the heart of man

there were things I needed
to get done
there were
bodies to be pulled from
a river of contemplation
and stacked along
it’s twisted banks
for carrion to consider

I had a universe
to paint on the vaulted ceiling
of my summer days,
trails to blaze,
girls to impress

I fought exhaustion as stained
morning light fell upon
the lamb of my parents,
my eyes went to the exit
as the call to hymn
had me doubting
identity
and validity of
the word

(c) 2013 Fred Whitehead

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