Monday, July 19, 2010


When I was a child I thought like a child
and distinguished the wrong from the right.
I believed what I knew and I learned what was taught,
which was never to question the fight.

I was told to believe and escaped to the dream
that a Man came to save me and test,
whether I would grow old with his heart in my soul
or if I would deny his Requests.

The Requests he’d impart in my wandering heart
were not always the logical choice,
so I’d shut off my brain and I’d walk his own way
and forget that God gave me a voice.

At first the Requests were quite standard,
and fit in to monotonous faith;
but as time carried on the Requests left the norm
of the crowd that had taught me The Way.

It took years to arrange the eventual change
from the ignorant child that was shaped,
to the adult who knew what I heard was the truth,
though it carried incredible weight.

The voice that he gave me had grown tired of arranging
the words to deny the Requests;
but Explaining was worse, for the Voice that I heard
was opposing the crowd’s very best.

The instruction he gave? “You aren’t walking my way;
what you’ve learned isn’t what you believe.
To distinguish the best from the worst isn’t yours,
…it is Mine; My sole task to achieve.”

Now, the older I grew there began to ensue
a brand new and quite challenging fight;
could I prove to the world that the voice that I heard
was still His, when it didn’t sound “right”?

So discerning I was, from my birth through my youth
and so trusted from those looking on.
But as soon as I heard this remarkable word,
I was “lost” and was suddenly…wrong.

There are those who assumed (with their holy-book proof)
that my life should more clearly define
where the people all stood; who was right, who was not,
who had clearly stepped over the line.

“It’s our right!” They declared (holy-book firm in hand)
“It’s our right to decide where they’ll go!”
But that’s not what I’ve heard (and that’s not what I’ve read);
I don’t think that we get to know.

When I was a child I believed like a child,
I was told I was taught I was right.
There was no steady hand, just unspoken demand
That I run to, not question, the fight.

We have killed in His Name; we have run unrestrained
into war and abuse and neglect.
What has caused us to leave such remarkable grief
in our wake, and so quickly forget?

How is it that we are the ones who can’t see
how far off we are from where we start?
What belief have we breathed that allows us to be
so incredibly blind in our hearts?

At first the Requests were quite standard,
They fit in with monotonous faith.
But now the Request has put Faith to the test,
and is bringing my head into play.

Can I put my whole heart in a system
that so brazenly acts in disdain?
That refuses to see past the People;
to the person, the eyes, and the name?

There is no condescension so fully perverse
as the one that comes “From God” through me.
Who am I to decide that this person beside
me is hell-bent as they’re meant to be?

To assume that I’m right and rush into the fight
without wisdom or knowledge or grace
is absurd and na├»ve, as I’ve been taught to be:
"Worry not how you get there, just finish the race."

I believe in the Man that has shaped me,
I believe that he was who he said.
But this doesn’t negate the impossible state
that a Question has left in my head.

I am crazy by most of the standards;
an apostate, by some marks as well;
but I’d rather ask too many questions
than accusingly preach what they sell.

My faith is a child, and I am a child;
through my questioning I’ve come to see
that belief is an easy way out,
‘less you educate past your belief.

© afterthoughtcomposer


anita said...

I think you might be my twin.

Mama said...

Hence the reason to keep our eyes on Him. You need to put this all into a book...
I should talk. I don't do the wonderful things that I need to...
Love you,
Mama ♥

Mama said...

I read this again. It's amazing.