Tag Archives: poems about religion

..Waveland Drive

The house of prayer
in the middle of  the chiming city
is filled with kind eyes,
and hugs inhabit its walls.
No man has judged this
Tainted lover
And no woman has called
me out on my shortcomings

I am like no one else
Yet their arms extended
Even to me
The insatiable
The tainted delinquent child
Whose trials with religion
Spun her head into a ponytail of exhaustion

Messages coincide and fall like sudden
Sinners from God’s grasp
I , adolescent wanderer, wonder often
about the pits of darkness
And the Candleholder’s heart
Sitting there,
  he flicks lost souls into the dormant eye of
A flame that’s dancing on the tip of a wick.

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Encounters 1.

I’d like for you to pray for me
to the God who eavesdrops on
church tops, and roof tops, in alleys
and streets alike,
who hovers and roams
and is everywhere and in everything.
the God who embraces the lowly
and the tarnished, cupping them into
the beds of His palms.
I have listened out for Him many times
hoping to see Him in everything too.
shamefully I come with my hands
barren tools of wrong,
I never kept their sacredness
their holiness
that they could be used to shake
another’s hand,
hold another,
“I missed you”.
to pat a back
“I am proud of you”
to hold the door
to open it
to hold you back
to keep you.
I had sinned against my hands
I never used them for their purpose
these two tools of wrong.
so I would like for you to pray for me
to this God,
whom as a girl I had envisioned had ears
as big as Dumbo,
whom I thought I’d trick by learning to whisper
so low only my soul could make out the
Pray for me
to The God who has spread himself across eternities
never forgetting Nows,
and Mes
and Yous.
.If not then teach me how
how to kneel
and place my heart in my palms
and offer them upward
surrendering to divinity
and accepting that I am but a tiny fraction
Wide-eyes please
Help me give myself in,
for the sake of my broken hands
these barren tools of pain
I can no longer let them down
nor the backs they forget to pat,
the hands the forget to link with
and help along.
Let them forgive themselves
and me,
teach them finally to pray.

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