Magnificent church with it’s tall steeple,
it’s mighty bell tower reaching to the sky,
filled with the good hard working people,
each praying for guidance before they die.
For it is a time to pray and a time to share,
time for forgiveness though once removed,
time of sweet remembrance, a time to care,
in life we travel a bumpy road, never smooth.
God fearing, we pray for the courage we lack,
sitting on oak benches beneath stained glass,
facing the reality that we can never go back,
waging war of love and hate will forever last.
Hymns of praise in the songs we have sung,
reflection of peace, of love and as all as one,
life and death, whence it mysteriously begun,
finds good versing evil before it can be done.
Children bored wanting their time for play,
men sleeping trying hard not to let it show,
women singing the joys of God’s given day,
in the cold chilly air the wind begins to blow.
th benches are always oak, aren't they? designed for minimum comfort, if not outright discomfort!
Yur poem raises an issue about the locus f the struggle between good and evil, between love and hate. Too often we pace that locus outside us, out side the church and attatch labels to those around us so that we can freely hate and kill those who are not like us. Trouble is, the battle ground is inside us.
Your church on the hill sounds like all the old churches in New Mexico. Beautiful and peaceful a perfect place [among many perfect places] to give glory and honor to God.
Your poem, also, inspires all to think about God every day.
Kathy
This combined narrative dialogue and play is about the uncreated, unborn and undying transcendent Self of God-consciousness and Buddha-nature. It describes an odyssey of transcendent Consciousness Awakening and Remembrance.
Histories of the world are generally written to either celebrate technology and science, or to herald doom. My book examines the path of the spirit in the onward rush.
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with rhythm and a knowledge of how we pray
excellent share
Be safe,
Karen
Yur poem raises an issue about the locus f the struggle between good and evil, between love and hate. Too often we pace that locus outside us, out side the church and attatch labels to those around us so that we can freely hate and kill those who are not like us. Trouble is, the battle ground is inside us.
I love the imagery of the last stanza!
all in all a good write!
john+
Your poem, also, inspires all to think about God every day.
Kathy