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
Poignant.
ReplyDeletePoignant indeed. 💔
ReplyDelete