No one ever needed to shoot God bullets into my heart.
Offering lilacs would have done the job as well or better.
Westminister church.
I sat in God's house expecting to recieve
color and fragrance from the robed man's words.
Instead he shot bullets. God bullets.
Packed tightly and loaded into fists
that pounded the pulpit relentlessly
I was God's or Death had claimed me.
Being young I felt no outrage at the verdict
Only regret that I had donned my best dress and worn shoes
to come inside and miss
the early dew on lilacs.
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by
Debbie G.
Member since:
July 16, 2006 God Bullets (Repost)
September 09, 2009 10:42 AM EDT
views: 59
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rating: 10/10
(8 votes)
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comments: 34
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Comments: 34
-him for the people-hater, power-monger he was
-nature as the human caregiver
-you as the discerner.
Absolutely spot on, Deb! I love this.
In God's house there are no bullets, let alone shooters ... the robed man knew nothing about Light, and God was not present there with him in that house - God was in your heart.
Did you write this? If so, I'd say you are a major poet. It is lovely. A delight to find among Gather posts.
Cheers.
Jim