by Barbara A. Taylor
We are devout victims
of a Church which misinterprets,
expounds God’s word to mean
there is no love, no respect
for those less powerful, like cute
choir boys or orphans in their care
We are devout victims of a Church
which misinterprets, expounds God’s word
to mean there is no love, no respect
for those among us, one in three
deemed deviants. We are devout victims
of a Church which misinterprets, expounds
God’s word to mean the bishop cannot be gay.
Nuns and professors don’t do that, never did,
and homosexuals do not pray, nor ever
should they marry. But I have sung His glory
in cathedral choirs, taught catechism
at the Sunday School, learned not to kill
or steal or hate. In middle-age I still rejoice
each day I give my daily bread to beasts and man.
Let no one hunger, starve from want of
human love, compassion.
Everywhere every life is sacred:
The girl, the boy, the woman, the man
The flashing lights of fireflies
The trees in bud, the hanging fruits
The baby in her crib, gurgling, calling for her mother’s breast
Bird songs, exotic insects, sexual scents--
The Lord was My Shepherd
I’ve studied science, thrown away
intelligent design, threats of religious zealots
And I shall not want.
Barbara A. Taylor is a regular reader at poetry nights. Her poems appear in literary journals including Triplopia, The Salt River Review, Tattoo Highway, Kaleidowhirl, Poemeleon, The Blue Fifth Review. Short form verse is at Lynx, Sketchbook Journal, Stylus, Simply Haiku, Contemporary Haibun On Line, Modern English Tanka, haiku and tanka anthologies, and elsewhere. Poetry with audio is at http://batsword.tripod.com.
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