Sacred Grove   Friday October 17, 1997

My Beloved Sons    
 
Joseph, Joseph. Joseph brought me here.
My emotions fly to the tree heights,
As feet scuffle through dead/live leaves.
I am in thy Holy Sanctuary.
 
Where I fear God but I am not afraid.
Neither jeers of the world nor misguided members
Can touch me, for I am touched of the spirit.
I am home, where I am loved unconditionally.
 
I have many sons, all are beloved,
Father many children not of my blood.
In the peace of thy Sacred Grove I hear,
The Thank You, the Thank You.
 
No one can comprehend but ONE the pain,
Of the withdrawal of the Father's
Outstretched arms, Arms that members could,
Have extended as God can not reveal himself.
 
Someone has taught them reluctance.
Someone has failed them to be inclusive.
For that failure, these valiant acts,
We thy children no matter our state,
Have been wasted, utterly discarded,
Foolishly misunderstood, falsely accused.
 
Not on this earth will I ever understand,
Such treatment, even by the Lord's anointed.
Forgiveness crosses my lips like,
Silverware touching a filling.
 
Quiet peace, peace thy grove comforts.
The wind rustles, the leaves scurry,
My bloody knuckles are arthritic.
I must serve another God for lack of love.
 
I am re-excommunicated, re-evaluated.
Sick of the apathy, the self righteousness,
That has unwelcomed me, A Gay Man,
To a church of people but not in the
Grove of the Sacred.







Click Here for Next Chapter



© 1997 Donald Attridge
Hosted by www.Geocities.ws

1