I Go To Church Each Sunday

I Go To Church Each Sunday

A Poem by Terry O'Leary

I go to church each Sunday,
God warns ‘there’s much to fear,
the world is decomposing,
the final end is near’.


I go to church each Sunday
and taste the wine and bread,
though elsewhere on our globus
raw hunger reigns instead.


I go to church each Sunday,
hear preachers’ words rebuff
repentant pauper’s pleading
‘enough is not enough’.


I go to church each Sunday,
watch candles burning bright
although they don’t enlighten      
the demons of the night.


I go to church each Sunday
to wash away my sin,
while prophets make their profits 
with wars that do us in.


I go to church each Sunday,
think thoughts incessantly 
 of all our planet’s peoples
denied equality.


I go to church each Sunday,  
sit peacefully in the nave
while folks afar seek, grieving,
throughout a boundless grave.


I go to church each Sunday 
to view iconic forms
alive in lancet windows
that hide unholy storms.


I go to church each Sunday,
discharge the weekly tithe,
while others pay the piper
when Reaper whets his scythe.


I go to church each Sunday 
regard the holy bell,
reflecting on the wastelands
where day and night they knell.


I go to church each Sunday,
hear persons of the cloth
disguise the hell hereafter
with wartime victory froth.


I go to church each Sunday,
half perched upon a pew;
with everything so hopeless,
what else can one but do?


I go to church each Sunday,
and gaze upon the steeple,
majestic as the rockets 
that plunge on placid people.


I go to church each Sunday 
to hear the choir’s song
keep time with banshees shrieking 
within a world gone wrong.


I go to church each Sunday 
(above, doves fly in flocks),
while far flung realms are flattened
beneath the wings of hawks.


I go to church each Sunday
and pray so oft for peace,
but still the death continues,
it never seems to cease.


I go to church each Sunday
to sing sad psalms of praise,
while distant drones are humming
o’er bodies burnt, ablaze.


I go to church each Sunday,
a quest to save my soul
’gainst warfare’s pride and plunder -
prayer never plays a role.


I go to church each Sunday 
my errors to confess,
while countries keep on killing 
and suffer no redress.


I go to church each Sunday 
the future for to see -
a man-made Armageddon
that ends humanity.

© 2024 Terry O'Leary


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Added on December 16, 2024
Last Updated on December 16, 2024

Author

Terry O'Leary
Terry O'Leary

France



About
a physicist lacking gravity... learning more and more... about less and less... until we finally know... everything about nothing... more..

Writing