THEOLOGY by FREDDY
A determined grid of black and red
And grey in a classic glen plaid
Covers the preacher as he speaks.
His voice the ringing of tower bells
As he describes a woman who slept
Alone to find peace. She said
It was her only happy time, he said.
I sat there nailed to my pew.
She sounds so sick and sad we all
Thought of the woman, All the while
Knowing she did not exist, except
That she is all of us. Awakening
May find us delighted, or maybe
It may find us groaning at another
Day to be suffered. Whether life
Is a word or a sentence comes
From a power given each of us.
The preacher passes his plate
For each of us to add to, but I
Did not hear him cry for money.
He gave me only a menu and a bill.
He did not give me food.
There in the granite cavern
Of church, I got myself ready to go
Within myself . I had to leave
The mumblings of holy men behind.