Thursday, July 14, 2005

I went to church last Saturday with some AEP friends. I guess this poem that I wrote explains what I feel like saying instantaneously, without having me go through the hassle of writing a million word essay.

Title: You Have Not Come

I am trying and trying.
It is so hard my Lord.
I am fighting and losing,
after all that I have sought
and all that You have bought for me
at the price of Your Son's Name.

Why did I even try in the first place?
They told me to have faith.
Who else can I blame?
Except myself,
for I have deliberately kept myself at bay.

What else can I say?
You are fading away,
even though I have begged you so many times to stay.
Can you not see that I am bleeding inside?
You are so cruel.
You have not come.
You have not come.
You have not come.
You have not come.
You have not come to me.

I am trying to fight and slay
the demons of my fears that curses
and my never-ending tears that sears.
Can you not hear my voice?
It pierces the deepness of my fierce desire.
All these years,
why have you not come?

If I am really your child,
if you really love me,
if you have really been watching over me,
if all that you say is so goddamn true,
if all i need is just to believe,
why do I not feel you here with me?

They sing your name.
You have all the fame.
Our Father, who art in the heavens, hallowed be Thy name!
I take the blame
for having lost you somewhere along the way.
They claim you will take me back to where I once belonged, or so they say.

Against my hardened heart of cynicism,
I bite my tongue to claw out the criticism.
As they raise their hands and worship You,
there is an absolute cessation
of the whimsical imagination.

Who do they worship?
They worship You.
Who do they worship?
They worship You?
Who do they worship?
They do not worship You.
They worship the big and bright and white and wide ceiling.
They worship the big and bright and white and wide screen
where the pastor perspires and screams and turns green
yet remains so eternally clean
inside that very very flat screen
produced by amazing technology
which makes them turn extremely keen
as he brings your written words in the bible
to the brim of the totality of all things possessing actuality
and people begin to close their many hard and heavy lids
and escape into a flight of fancy with great persistency.

They say that you lie
right in their hearts.
But all I see are the cuts.
You are so cruel.
You have not come.
You have not come.
You have not come.
You have not come.
You have not come.
You will not come to me.

9 comments:

Godwin said...

heh, the seventh stanza...

I take it that you're not Christian?

estelwen said...

trying

estelwen said...

to

estelwen said...

write

estelwen said...

junk

estelwen said...

lolx .... take care babe... u can join me anytime... the athetis club... lol... i have alot of entries against GOD...
lol..
see ya

Faith said...

I am a christian......

Anonymous said...

They worship the big and bright and white and wide screen
where the pastor perspires and screams and turns green
yet remains so eternally clean
inside that very very flat screen
produced by amazing technology
which makes them turn extremely keen
as he brings your written words in the bible
to the brim of the totality of all things possessing actuality
and people begin to close their many hard and heavy lids
and escape into a flight of fancy with great persistency

This is my favorite stanza.

- Miao

Anonymous said...

Btw Faith, I think this is your best poem ever. It's the most impressive of all.

- Miao