elise

I am walking down a red plush carpet again.
I smell holy water. I question it. Always was the little skeptic.
My grandmother makes me bow, cross myself,
my little ivory hands grudgingly make their way
from my chest to my forehead and back.
And enter
the pew.
Organs blaring guilt-music. All gather together to worship
the priest.
The priest in green robes,
bald shiny head, and two slave altar boys.
Like he's King.
I don't buy into it. My curls fall into my face.
I fall asleep. My grandmother slaps me.
The crack breaks silence.
Yes, yes, I worship you, O God.
God, I didn't know you were a priest.
Meanwhile Jesus starves behind him on a cross, stone-frozen gasp of suffering, begging "don't forget about me..." and I feel sorry for him. They told me to love him.
But he does not know me and I do not know him and I cannot love someone I do not know.
The King Priest takes a step to the left
and conveniently blocks my view of good ol'
stone-frozen Jesus.
Hosanna in the highest, peace to his people on earth.
if you wear green you are saved.
if you wear green you are god.
halleluja
halleluja


--------------------------------
Elise11.2.02