I’m raised on Christian salvation and
I’ve no argument with the good news.
The fisherman of men has walked upon troubled waters.
Plucked me out and I’ve spat bile, standing by his side.
Yet I cannot abide starched preachers,
Finding loathsomeness in scripture,
Bringing me to my knees
Slapping the back of my legs with a yardstick,
That measures me an undeserving wretch,
I am part if the majesty of creation.
I take my place along with
Beast, fish, fowl and botany,
In the beautiful mosaic of life.
As the artist smiles placing the tiniest brush stroke,
Enhancing his masterpiece, God sees me.
I belong.
I deserve.
I am saved