Dedicated to the real risen Lord,
Only to be deliberately distanced,
Religion’s worst witness is regulation.
Othered by status seeking succulents
Theodicizing, not living, the Gospel.
Hellbent on containment, not Christ,
Yesterday has set on them all.
Don’t underestimate solidarity’s power,
As it is the miracle of the incarnation.
Yes, salvation comes through divine solidarity.
Living love becomes ever embodied
In the lives of the compassionate—
Vessels of vitality on a sea of suffering—
Engaged in righteous resistance.
Shalom is the word spoken by saints.
Poet’s Note:
An acrostic Scorched Sunday poem. Part of my Scorched Strays series. This poem confronts how religion loses its witness when regulation replaces solidarity.
© 2026 Tristan Robert Lange. All rights reserved.
First published on tristanrobertlange.com, February 1, 2026.
Tittu
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Author:
Tristan Robert Lange (
Offline) - Published: February 1st, 2026 09:08
- Comment from author about the poem: I’m published in an anthology featuring authors from across the Poconos, PA. All proceeds benefit the Pocono Liars Club — a collective of authors and editors dedicated to supporting and mentoring local writers. Available in paperback and Kindle, please consider purchasing one and supporting a great cause. https://a.co/d/58uxM69
- Category: Religion
- Views: 17
- Users favorite of this poem: Teddy.15, GenXer Sharon 🙏🍀, Paul Bell
- In collections: Scorched Strays.
Offline)
Comments8
Religious commentary hot off the grill. It is steaming and has a smell to it. Not the commentary but the religion. Nicely packaged under cellophane it looks hygienic but is past its pull date and has molded. Loved the passion in the poem Tristan it speaks for itself. Well done
Soren, thank you for this. The contrast you draw between packaged religion and living faith mirrors the heart of the poem. When regulation replaces solidarity, witness spoils quickly...and yes...it reeks. I appreciate your careful read and your words here, my friend. 🍞🕯️✊🙏
You are most welcome my friend it is my pleasure
Good write T. Do we hear a glug?! lol.
Indeed, we do! LOL! Better than the silence from status seeking succulents 🤣. Popeye eats spinach...but not sure he digests succulents so well! Sigh! 🤷♂️😮💨 Maybe Obi can?
And how's Ol' Tom's knitting going?! lol.
You know, he's spinning (knitting?) quite the yarn 🧶 over there! 🤣
He's a one. He calls it 'knitting'. It's as you say - he's spinning a yarn, telling us porkies. lol.
Oh your title, I came straight to answer it
Religions worst witness, is that that follows it. Although I know enough to say that the faith can bring real comfort to those in fact who believe. I don't live so far from Rome, i see it for myself. 🌹
Teddy, I’m grateful you named the comfort faith can offer while still engaging the critique. That balance is rare, generous, and certainly true. The poem isn’t aimed at true belief, but at what buries it, and your response shows you felt that distinction clearly. I am so very appreciative, dear friend, for your engagement and insight. 🍞🕯️✊🙏
Pass.🙃
By the way Tristan, If by 'religion' you mean a church , temple or whatever then they are all composed of imperfect humans ........ what then do you expect? Same deal I get at my tenant's meeting.....
Dave, I appreciate the candor. Yes, churches, temples, committees…all human, all flawed. The poem isn’t shocked by imperfection so much as wary of what happens when regulation replaces solidarity. Your tenant’s meeting analogy actually underscores the point quite well, my friend. We humans...well, we are what we are. And who doesn't love a good meeting. One need not be religious to get caught up in that fabulous human headache. 🤣 🍞🕯️✊🙏
Where I put 'what then do you expect?', I really meant 'what then should you expect?' - difference subtle however I wanted something slightly less confrontational. But when I popped back, alas your reflexes again....
No worries, Dave. I understood what you meant and, I happen to think you are 💯 correct. Rock on, my friend! 😊
Lovely lines "Living love becomes ever embodied
In the lives of the compassionate"...only if we could
My friend, you zeroed in on the fragile heart of that line. that line delivered. Indeed, if only... Grateful for your presence and your reading. 🏰🕯️👁️🙏
Great work here Tristan
Thank you, my dear friend. Much appreciation. 🍞🕯️✊🙏
I'll die for my faith.
Yet, no faith asks you to die for it.
Mind you, when someone tries to inflict their religion on you. For some reason, the imaginary machine gun pops up and takes them out.
God is good, tells you on the fag packet.
Paul, there’s real bite in what you’re saying here. Faith offered freely versus belief imposed by force is a fault line we keep tripping over, and your imagery makes that fracture impossible to ignore. It’s uncomfortable, necessary, and thoughtfully put. Thanks for engaging it so directly, my friend. 🏰🕯️👁️🙏
this acrostic poem also carries a beautiful message on how religion can be interpreted in ways that are not truly meant...great...
Safina, I really appreciate this reading. The acrostic form and the message are meant to mirror how religion itself can be handled…carefully or carelessly. Your response shows you were listening closely, and that means a lot. Thank you, my friend. Always appreciated! 🏰🕯️👁️🙏
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