It's so hot.
The priest's sermon-
whose warm voice so soft,
soothes the yearning ear,
encouraging oft,
for all to hear.
But the soul most dear.
And the poignantly silent Cross behind him.
People's voices-
rosaries, novenas,
strapping their arms,
but not their lips.
Heartily singing
or maybe snoring,
rising to the heavens,
but drowning my little own.
Like each sentence is simply a groan.
And the endless cars honking outside us.
Then in my little reverie, I yell:
Don't hush me!
When I pray to Thee,
all I want is Thy sympathy,
whose essence to a dry soul so empty,
would quench thousandfold a bounty!
Cries.
Then right beside my pew,
a light of unfurled color lies,
reveled by so few.
Then I look to the left,
facing the most mighty sun
shining on my burned cheeks,
on the blackest of hair,
closing my ****** eyes,
having a little fun.
Only one voice
of direction, of choice,
of just enough noise-
to brighten my day,
to go along with whatever may,
I am allowed to play!
And Mom tells me to keep silent,
before any wall gets a dent,
after I've learned what they've meant.
But, it's Sun-day.
The one light, the one love,
for the one me-
God allowed me to be.
Feb 2, 2014
Feb 2, 2014 at 2:12 AM UTC
It's so hot.
The priest's sermon-
whose warm voice so soft,
soothes the yearning ear,
encouraging oft,
for all to hear.
But the soul most dear.
And the poignantly silent Cross behind him.
People's voices-
rosaries, novenas,
strapping their arms,
but not their lips.
Heartily singing
or maybe snoring,
rising to the heavens,
but drowning my little own.
Like each sentence is simply a groan.
And the endless cars honking outside us.
Then in my little reverie, I yell:
Don't hush me!
When I pray to Thee,
all I want is Thy sympathy,
whose essence to a dry soul so empty,
would quench thousandfold a bounty!
Cries.
Then right beside my pew,
a light of unfurled color lies,
reveled by so few.
Then I look to the left,
facing the most mighty sun
shining on my burned cheeks,
on the blackest of hair,
closing my ****** eyes,
having a little fun.
Only one voice
of direction, of choice,
of just enough noise-
to brighten my day,
to go along with whatever may,
I am allowed to play!
And Mom tells me to keep silent,
before any wall gets a dent,
after I've learned what they've meant.
But, it's Sun-day.
The one light, the one love,
for the one me-
God allowed me to be.
I know that this is a really (or too) straightforward poem, but it's just about a child's encounter with the Divine (or what I felt a while ago) in the midst of a sultry morning.
