"Unless I am convinced by proofs from Scriptures or by plain and clear reasons and arguments, I can and will not retract, for it is neither safe nor wise to do anything against conscience.
Martin Luther .
Somehow there’s always a way to see the light
Somewhere there’s always some place to hope
Sometimes we makes room for justice and understanding .
Someone above the lofty towers of wigs and gavels
Within the furze and bracken of turgid rhetoric,
Of oppression and a dark despair
Of subjugation of the spirit and soul
Sometimes a simple candle is sufficient
To guide you on your way home and,
Wherever that may be
I wish you well on your journey there
Luxury and easy living come easy for some as birthright
Privilege is assumed , not earned
Wealth and affluence seems theirs by destiny
But how would you feel if you'd had to trade
Shoes with the little boy who'se shoe it has no soul
And his spirit houses another weary soul ; devoid of optimism or pride
Nor either has he change of clothes
As he gets into his cold dormitory orphanage bed
And his sister has toiled all day in the steaming laundey
Her little hands wrinkled like bird claw from the coarse suds
Why would or should you trade places with them either
Yet he and she are with us , among us
And still we look away
As princely men who dress in medievlal garb on the Altar each Sunday
But by night these monsters prowl the corridoors
Stalking , in the dark they come upon her little steel cot
Where now is that gentle sun that shines for her
Where is the hope but just beyond the grasp of prayer
Why do we throw our quilt before them , in shame .
In expectation of atonement and pardon
With some idle platitude or worse -
The presumption of forgiveness
The little girl lay in paroxysms of agony ,
She lay frozen , petrified in her steel cot
As the priest penetrated her vagina
With a cruciffex
And then worse...
He orders her to turn over
And lie on her back...
Where now is that gentle Nazarine for her ?
Is He is this monsters gift
To change bread and wine ?
As he beatifies his own depravity
His beastly instinct
As now with his brutish fist he penetrates her anus
With his crucifix ..
As the child cries out in terror
He tells her - Be Quiet - it's the wish of God.
When I find myself in times of trouble
Mother Mary comes to me
Speaking words of wisdom
Let it be -
Paul Mc Cartney
Here I stand. I can do no other. God help me. Amen."
© Copyright 2016 donkylemore. All rights reserved.
Short Story / Commercial Fiction
Poem / Flash Fiction
Essay / Memoir
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