Crimson

Crimson

 

I hear Church Bells ringing…

Could they be ringing, coaxing along my trot, for me?

Could I be God?

 

No, no, I don’t believe in God;

Those Bells can’t ring for me…

I can’t even see the Steeple.

 

I can’t see the Pulpit,

The Tapestries that adorn the Altar,

Nor the Stained-Glass that forbids darkness; well…the Glass occasionally cracks…

 

I never see God or Jesus’ pictures on milk cartons;

You know, like what they do for lost children;

No?

 

Am I homeless?

Begging for the Congregation’s spare money outside the Church steps,

Bartering for their loose words without pages?

 

I always loved the colder weather,

When Sunlight has yet to chase away the chill of the pre-dawn…

The perfect weather to wear a coat and Sun’s absence.

 

I never see Her beg outside the Church with me…

Did She finally don the Sunday tradition of wearing a long dress and a plain blouse?

Does a Crucifix define Her yet?

 

I look to the azure and remember when I could touch it;

But that memory has faded…lost;

Lost like Jesus, and never found…maybe that’s why I’m an atheist.

 

Sure, my world is turning to Crimson…

But the Sunrise looks…so…damn beautiful;

And I still beg.

Reviews

[Jade-UH]

Wow I don't even know what to comment it was so good.

[Aeternal Oceanfire]

Contemplative...

[Thomas Fitzgerald]

A journey through place, time and feeling, I adore your sense of self and empathy, well done, good read.

[Coyote Poetry]

I like the many thoughts and places you took me in this poem. I like the thoughts create by the question and the logic of this poem. So many statements stood out in this poem.
"Am I homeless?
Begging for the Congregation’s spare money outside the Church steps,
Bartering for their loose words without pages?"
I like the open ending to the outstanding poem.
Coyote

[Divinity Sleeps in This]

I adored the tone and concept of this, it felt like a movie.

You do realize you would be capable of creating amazing fiction, right?