God Hopping

You may or may not know that I write poetry when I’m tortured. Here is a transparent string of words for your perusal. Comments welcome…

God Hopping

Inscrutable priest
in absentia -
who is guarding the temple gates?
(let’s  do it on the altar.)
I’ve sacrificed you here a thousand times,
smoldering flesh
rising unto the heavens.
plumbing the depths of my
soul , indiscriminately
to an empty booth.
What happens if l lift the veil?
Bless me, father
for where I’ve been.
Every Judas earns his
silver’s weight in guilt.
blasphemers  desecrate the sacred
with false contrition
moneychangers sell
all the indulgences,
and hypocrites write the best prayers,
just as purveyors of unlikely hopes
make the best priests.
This is my body.
(Your love is better than wine.)
Too late I’ve learned that
when you live in Eden,
the Tree of Knowledge can only provide
a taste of darkness
by which to appreciate light.
Take, eat of the meat
I once offered to idols.
You were the iron, in feet of clay.
(I remember your love more than wine.)
Small gods lurking
in every shadow of my past
inspired no worship.
Lip services belying
my truths.
Pantheism is exhausting,
and Baal can’t bring the fire.
Day after day, the birds come
while I realize that you are the one that breathed
life into me.
Broken for you.
the priest has become my god,
and my desire is unto him.
This is my blood.
(Stir not up, nor awake my love, until he please.)
Sacrament to cure the love,
the sinner lays down her soul at the altar.
So much for Philemon and Baucis.

It has to be you.

About these ads