RevivalA Poem by Re-PeteThe preacher stood at the bully pulpit as he pounded his fist down upon the Good Book. Demanding to know if the congregation could see the light. Hear it. Feel it. Sweat it. Bleed it. Live it. Want it. Spread it like a dialectical, didactic disease. Turns out they could. It was undeniable. Everyone forgiven and no one judged. They couldn't be contained. There were hands clapping and feet tapping. Arms waving. Cartwheels, handsprings and somersaults down the aisle. Running and leaping for joy. Bodies flailing. Dancing with diadems. Voices yelling out in a courageous, charismatic cacophony. People speaking with tongues of fire. There were tears and kneeling confessions like spring cleaning. Laughing for no reason. Pools of penitent perspiration formed in the parsonage. A pile of wheel chairs, canes, crutches, walkers, braces and prosthetics materialized. Drums beat like harried hearts. The bass guitar kept a constant, rock steady line. There was sanctity emanating from the six string. The unmistakable, mystical, metallic jingle of tambourines shimmying in callused hands. Electronic xylophones extolling grace. Symbols crashing in a catapulting crescendo. Even the organ piped in with a heavenly chorus. The congregation locked arms and did a line dance around the altar. People of all races, creeds and colors from everywhere. Hugging. Revolution. Revolt. Flowers. Fruitful forgiveness. Freedom. Sun and rainbows. Wind and water. Fire. Joy. Peace. Love. Liberation. Burdens lifted. The restitution of souls. ... Revival ... © 2018 Re-PeteFeatured Review
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5 Reviews Added on April 19, 2017 Last Updated on February 9, 2018 AuthorRe-PeteBoston, MAAboutI love reading, writing, music, nature, God and feeling emotion, not necessarily in that order. To me, these things go hand in hand. My favorite writer is Henry David Thoreau. I think he was a geni.. more..Writing
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