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Poetry Magnum Opus

Once Unending [Mature, maybe]


fdelano
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Once Unending

 

 

 

Just as I am, without one plea,

 

but that thy blood was shed for me…

 

 

 

We sang and cried and gave our lives

 

to Christ, whom we did not know.

 

We knew the preacher and our families

 

and all those who would have us go

 

up the aisle to salvation. I was twelve,

 

the age of guilt, doomed to hell unless

 

accepted into the bosom of Jesus.

 

 

 

I walk through the valley of the shadow of death…

 

 

 

For at least five years on the buckle

 

of the Bible belt, among those who

 

hated Catholics and Jews and Niggers

 

because the Bible said so, we were

 

herded along, sheep with blinders.

 

Baptism, Sunday School and sermon before

 

noon, with evening services to follow.

 

 

 

Amazing grace, how sweet thy sound…

 

 

 

My beliefs shattered by reality

 

of life and death and logic.

 

How could all of this way of life

 

not be true? Because they are all

 

wrong, carrying the “Word and

 

the life” so forcefully on young

 

or undeveloped minds.

 

 

 

When the roll is called up yonder…

 

 

 

My teachers read from Psalms,

 

and I loved the beauty of the songs

 

of David. I believed,

 

no matter the reality of the world

 

hammering at my cerebral cortex,

 

no matter the conflicts overwhelming.

 

 

 

My cup runeth over…

 

 

 

 

 

Still, at odd moments when alone,

 

the old hymns course through

 

my mind and I find myself humming

 

or mouthing the words to myself,

 

and the beauty of that childhood

 

of belief and assurance, in closeness

 

to the family who believed every

 

word in the Good Book, overwhelm

 

my hollow, unknowing old brain.

 

 

 

Halleluiah! Thine the glory…

 

 

 

Then I am inundated with the cruelty

 

of all I have seen and participated

 

in, just as though these things were

 

my new religion. Now I have forsaken

 

both and live in a mental world

 

of knowing nothing except my own mind.

 

Do not shed even one tear for me.

 

 

 

Just as I am without one plea…

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Larsen M. Callirhoe

powerful anthem as if ever. i applaud you for telling it like you feel it and mean it. just a powerfl bloody brillant poem franklin.

 

victor

Larsen M. Callirhoe

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  • 1 month later...

Franklin, the picture you paint is distinctly American, but the story has Old World roots. How negatively "crusaders" have twisted texts of a faith based on brotherly love to try to justify their unconscionable acts and secular ambitions.

 

Tony

Here is a link to an index of my works on this site: tonyv's Member Archive topic

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