Every Sunday I watch a fly crawl on the communion bread,
But eat it anyway.
It begs the question, “How do we treat the body of Christ?”
There are so many conflicts; I rarely edit my poems.
Is it a choice of style or of laziness? Other poets
Edit for months… mine take an hour or so.
Balance: staying an individual instead of being sucked into
The masses- against the fact that yes, sometimes
There is a right way to do things, you must be
My mind and pen are torn. So much
To say, but some things I cannot publish,
They are too sharp. I could write under a pseudonym,
But then how would I show my school? This is
An assignment, my senior thesis before I go to the world. I
Chose to write, because that is what I understand:
How to give shape to the things I don’t understand.
Jesus/ remember me/ when you come into your kingdom (2x)
I remember how he sang, my soul is stilled by nostalgia
But the battle of the church brings me back
To my writing, which is spurred on by this
Desire to understand how to be Christian;
However, so many other desires or requirements
Get in the way.
Hence my understanding of this: life is balance.
Perhaps I try too hard. I pray to a God
I do not understand, just as I do not understand
Why I am still at a church where I feel lost;
The unknown God to whom I pray dwells there.
Finally, the God of the Bible, of Abraham, Isaac
And all the patriarchs and saints
Showed me where to find Him.
I found Him where I needed Him most.
I found Him when I searched for Him.
He told me, “Rest, my child, you cannot control
This world.” I am stilled by the peace
Of the knowledge of this:
He is my guide, I have only to listen.
I cross myself and say, “Christ, be with me.”