![]() VIRUSA Poem by VolThe infection must have begun to manifest when I was only three. Standing on the foot of my bed "Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, with all thy soul, and with all thy mind." Mom smiled and stuck a gold star next to the blue, red and green ones on the hand-made chart she had taped to the wall. That was the first I remember earning and the last, but it was already too late I was terminal.
Maybe it’s genetic. My Marine Corps father had trampled some grapes of wrath on Iwo Jima, a blond god at six-two he spent thirty plus days in hell bringing salvation with a carbine and telephone wire before he took ill from something Mama said.
He probably would have even graduated Bible College if he hadn’t made a little more vintage on the chin of that self-righteous dean of men and run off to marry my elfin angel mom.
It must be genetic, both their parents had the disease, pastoring holy-roller churches for years, spread the word, spread the disease, they thought.
Dad had grown up fighting the poison every way he knew, alcohol, tobacco, women, and his fists to no avail. He lost the battle before he even knew it was on. So he too spread the word spread the disease.
What chance did I have standing in his bright shadow? "For God so loved the world that He gave his only begotten Son" to infect us all despite the vaccinations of Baptists, Catholics, Presbyterians, Pentecostals, and the rest who have forgotten that the yoke of this disease is easy, and the burden is light: Love God, Love your neighbor, and that’s all, a sweet virus. I’m terminal. © 2025 VolReviews
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Added on March 13, 2025Last Updated on March 14, 2025 Author |