They climbed on sketchy ladders towards God,
with winch and pulley hoisted hewn rock into heaven,
inhabited the sky with hammers,
defied gravity,
deified stone,
took up God's house to meet him,
and came down to their suppers
and small beer,
every night slept, lay with their smelly wives,
quarrelled and cuffed the children,
......
Since I am coming to that holy room,
Where, with thy choir of saints for evermore,
I shall be made thy music; as I come
I tune the instrument here at the door,
And what I must do then, think here before.
Whilst my physicians by their love are grown
Cosmographers, and I their map, who lie
Flat on this bed, that by them may be shown
That this is my south-west discovery,
......
“I’ll always love you,”
you said
and at the time
i believed you,
believed the notion of pity
under thinly veiled expressions-
oh, he’s ashamed,
oh so ashamed
oh what else
......
I am a Christian, and I love the name,
Nor will I shrink thro' fear or guilty shame,
To tell the world that I belong to God-
Redeemed and washed in the atoning blood.
I am a Christian, and I'll bear the cross,
Tho' it exposes me to grief and loss;
My loving Lord who hung upon the tree,
Endured the cross, a heavier one, for me.
......
As I stand before the gates of death,
And take my final, trembling breath
I'm filled with fear and deep regret
For all the things I left unsaid
I try to find my way to faith,
But no matter how I pray,
I remain an atheist at heart
A heathen creature with no god,
And now, as death draws near,
I am afraid.
......
Ze verzamelen zich onder oude gewelven,
elke rode mantel een schaduw van traditie,
elk gezicht getekend door gebed en macht.
De deuren sluiten met het gekreun
van de geschiedenis,
en buiten blijft de wereld achter.
Binnen zindert de stilte
als een ingehouden adem.
De stembriefjes, gevouwen
......
They gather under ancient arches,
each red robe a shadow of tradition,
each face worn by prayer and power.
The doors close with a groan of history,
locking the world outside.
Inside,silence hums like a held breath.
The ballots,folded like whispered hopes,
pass from hand to flame.
Smoke curls skyward,
......
It was not with thunder,
nor with a shout across the sky.
No burning bush,no trembling ground,
just the quiet shift of air inside my chest.
The world stayed ordinary--
cars passed,leaves stirred,
the sun slipped behind a cloud unnoticed.
But I knew.
......
I sit in the pew,
sunlight stained through glass,
and wonder
why the voice inside me speaks in doubt
while the choir sings certainty.
The cross is heavy in the hands of belief,
but light in the arms of ritual.
I know the stories,
I've whispered them like prayers,
......
I am a Christian with thoughts that don't believe,
I carry a Bible in one hand
and a question in the other,
walking a line between light and shadow.
The hymns rise around me
like waves I cannot swim in.
They say faith is a fire-
mine flickers,
sometimes smoke,
......