How many more times must we say I'm sorry?
How many more years of guilt and worry
We follow you so meek and blind
Bound to a sin from another time
You say you love and forgive us all
But still we struggle, strive and crawl
Oh heavenly father hear our cries
Take us back before we die
But your silence is thunder to our ears
Our apologies a waste of tears
And yet we continue the path of forgiveness
A never ending state of divine powerlessness
Must I believe in your heavenly cure?
Forgive me father but I'm not so sure
-
Author:
Saxon Crow (
Offline) - Published: July 16th, 2021 00:24
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 34
- Users favorite of this poem: Poetic Dan
Offline)
Comments6
'your silence' says it all, Sax - why do you bother?
Great write but too many words for me; however who knows, it might get someone else ....thinking?
A huge con instigated and perpetuated by the christian churches to subtly place the believer in their emotional control.
Once a person frees themselves from christian doctrine and accepts the natural spirituality within us all then the truth begins to dawn if one lets it.
Your poem is a good expression of the guilty opressive burden christianity, be it protestant or catholic, places upon every innocent soul it captures - usually from tender years.
Not just Christianity but many other religions besides.
Tis very true Dusk
(really sorry for hijacking your comment section, dear poet
I was just inspired by your words
and couldn't control my overzealous nature,
I meant no disrespect by doing so)..
some people delight at an ice cream treat
others shake their head in bewilderment
at how sugared milk - frozen
can improve someone's mood;
science went and explained it all
used words like dopamine hits
to validate its mood swing effects;
but we forget
there was a time - before,
when milk and sugar, was only
for kings and queens
and their aristocracy feeders,
while people's lives were valued by
their muscles or weapons
or the power to make other's wield
those oppressive resources
for a name or banner;
in those days, some inked words
shared - freely, was all people had
to believe that they had something
more: to aim for, in life;
now fast-forward a few centuries
and we all own, handbag sized guns
with silencers thrown-in for free
but expect 'civility' to insure
nobody uses them: on us - righteously;
a time where
humanity's fallible - fingerprints
has distorted all-things goodness
in what was once
our theological appeasement of life,
now people scream and hate a deity
they don't believe-in, absurdly?
while the Pope rides
a gold bulletproof Rolls Royce, accompanied
by motorcades, armed
with those all-important donation boxes
a 10% minimum premium, of all you earn
your price of inclusion, non-negotiable for entry
into your miraged depiction of heaven,
and Ayatollah's fight democracy
for modernity's truly empowering capacity
to wield Nuclear bombs, freely;
and the Jews, as always
spend their day-to-day, counted-out existence
plotting an economical path
to their continued survival,
cursing the day
they ever shared, 'their God'
with such an ungrateful world...
Wow, what an ending! Thank you for sharing
Thanks Dan. Glad you liked the ending.
Well written, S.C.
We have been "Huck Finned" from the beginning.
the middle way has always kinda worked for me ...........
what a gift you have bestowed upon us here today sir 🙂
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