Brendan Curran ✒ with a poem from his expansive body of work.


A Burning Bush Inside

I dream to be born a Protestant
With the burning bush inside 
I have lost the church where I used to be
because of a pedophile 
There would be no need for confessional boxes
the place where the monster preys 
Where they couldn’t get you on your own 
and destroy your childhood ways

♞♜♝

To be brought up in a church you love
one that sets your spirit free 
Not a dark controller of its parishioners
with the sin that no one sees
In a church room polished with the finest oak
where everything can be seen 
Not a cold marble pillar mansion
where god is just a screen

♞♜♝

If I was born a Protestant
there would be happiness deep inside 
Not the memory of cruel acts 
that should never visit a child 
Alas, my dream was just a vision 
a wish for the way life could have been
Instead there rests the memory 
and a pain that cannot be seen

⏩ Brendan Curran, The Poet without a Pen

A Burning Bush Inside

Brendan Curran ✒ with a poem from his expansive body of work.


A Burning Bush Inside

I dream to be born a Protestant
With the burning bush inside 
I have lost the church where I used to be
because of a pedophile 
There would be no need for confessional boxes
the place where the monster preys 
Where they couldn’t get you on your own 
and destroy your childhood ways

♞♜♝

To be brought up in a church you love
one that sets your spirit free 
Not a dark controller of its parishioners
with the sin that no one sees
In a church room polished with the finest oak
where everything can be seen 
Not a cold marble pillar mansion
where god is just a screen

♞♜♝

If I was born a Protestant
there would be happiness deep inside 
Not the memory of cruel acts 
that should never visit a child 
Alas, my dream was just a vision 
a wish for the way life could have been
Instead there rests the memory 
and a pain that cannot be seen

⏩ Brendan Curran, The Poet without a Pen

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