I woke up in the wrong church

just a little something

I woke up in the wrong church this morning

with angels chattering in my head.

The black pews are worn smooth by guilt, blood and tears

and Satan's just upstairs behind the balcony

buying his way back in.

There are no dinosaurs or Neanderthals lounging in this sanctuary

nor are there any icebergs floating on clear blue pools of holy water just inside the door.

But, Sir Isaac Newton is here discussing with aliens from Roswell

the idea of God's hand in the discovery of titanium and gravity

and how Einstein could come up with E=MC2 all on his own.

Ghosts of black cats stare into the eyes of Spanish inquisitors

and the sun filtered through a hundred million stained glass battlefields

shines upon the image of a man, hanging from two pieces of wood

long dead of a broken heart.

 

I'm not so sure where I came from,

 

But I vaguely remember standing in a field of wheat at sundown

with a sickle in my hand.

The moon is on the horizon and my wife's bell is calling me to supper.

Our children are already in and washed and hungry from a hard day's work

and the home of my ancestors is shining a short distance away just up the hill.

Everyone is waiting

 

Then as blinding light breaks the cloudless sky into pieces

I dissolve into nothingness . . .

And think,

"I won't be home for supper love, please kiss the kids goodnight"

 

© 2010 Mark C. Jackson

Author's Note

here you go . . .

Reviews

[Willow]

You were successful with this poem. I truly liked it, especially your references. They were blunt, but excellent nonetheless.

[Ashley Myers]

wow i really liked this and loved reading it!!!! goes into so much depth and so much detail. its beautiful

[Coyote Poetry]

You went in may directions with this poem. A lot of questions you raise with the strong statements. I try not to talk religion. I'm Ojibwa and my people were forced to schools and not allow to speak their language for a 100 years in public. I try to keep my disappointment away from my life.
"Ghosts of black cats stare into the eyes of Spanish inquisitors
and the sun filtered through a hundred million stained glass battlefields
shines upon the image of a man, hanging from two pieces of wood
long dead of a broken heart."
A excellent poem. I like poetry that make me think.
Coyote

[Heather Simone]

Wow, I'm not a huge poetry person, but I loved this one. Really good! :-)

[Rose Masen]

Awesome job portraying many different thoughts, emotions, and scenes. I like how you took it from your OWN mind and then made it as if it's coming from the characters mind, as well. Very different and unique as well.

[.shalynn.009.]

A very strange and intriguing prose poem. I love all of the imagery in the first stanza, contrasting the scientific and religious ideas. It made me wonder what you meant by the "wrong" church. Were you trying to say you went to sleep with a certainty of one ideology and woke up questioning it? Your description of the church made me wonder if you were trying to say that these two ideologies could not only live side-by-side, but also attempt to work together to find the truth both sides seek. It was strange that you described Jesus as dead of a broken heart. Where did that idea come from, I wonder?

"I'm not so sure where I came from," I loved that htis line was cut off from both scenes, leaving the question literally hanging in the air between two very mixed adn confusing ideologies. I also like that it didn't have a period at the end, but a comma, emphasizing that this question has yet to be answered.

Loved this piece. I'm still not sure I understand the last two stanzas. Was the speaker coming to a realization, or still questioning. But hey, that's the best kind of poem. The kind you have to read a few times in order to get the full meaning. Good imagery adn techniques. Overall, I enjoyed this very much.

[Shelby]

Very unique and very sad. The ending was so poignant, after that deluge of people and things in the first stanza. That's what made it work so well, not understanding exactly what is meant by the title until the very end. This was beautiful and I was duly impressed. Well done.

[TheFemininePad]

Wow Mark. That was very different. I read over the poem quite a few times trying to understand what you are trying to convey. I'm still a little confused about the poem. The part with a sickle in my hand made me thinking that I was the Grim Reaper, but I believe that I am incorrect. It's a great poem, but its left me a little stumped.