Church of Childhood
I saw this poem on my sister's blog. She wrote it. God, I love that girl. And can you believe I didn't even know she sometimes writes poetry?
"In the Church of Childhood,
a poem to share with my x-Catholic friend"
In the Church of Childhood
I take communion from you,
genuflect to the Procreators.
Place your ideas in my mouth,
teach me, feed me, mold me
on Sunday and everyday.
In your collection plate
I offer up my innocence.
You are my gods,
I am your lamb.
One day the world will reap
what you have sown.
So say a prayer for me.
I like this poem for its emotion, though I realize that poetry is a very personal thing— some of us preferring form over emotion or artfulness over content, etc. So I thought I'd add this little commentary from Pooh to Piglet, on the art of writing poetry:
"And that's the whole poem," he said. "Do you like it, Piglet?"
"All except the shillings," said Piglet. "I don't think they ought to be there."
"They wanted to come in after the pounds," explained Pooh, "so I let them. It is the best way to write poetry, letting things come."
"Oh, I didn't know," said Piglet.
Poem by Sandi S. Used with permission. Church photo by Stefani M. Rossi Used with permission.