Guest guest Posted May 10, 1999 Report Share Posted May 10, 1999 Hello everyone: My wife has always been a poet, but up until now I haven't been interested in trying my hand at it. On the weekend, however, I felt the urge to express, and this is the result. My Child, My Love I was your child, but you knew not How love to bestow on whom you begot. Hungry for you, my cries ignored, Beauty denied, my spirit gored. Stifling yearnings, becoming unreal, Until my self no longer to feel. Life a contest, I struggling in vain To surface from under vast oceans of pain. Then from the depths of heart's despair Divine love revealed - the soul's repair. With truth of Spirit's value shown, The precious seeds of Self were sown. Blossoming to the cosmic day, God/dess reborn, and I can play. Carried aloft upon wings of a dove, I am my child, I am my love. ---------- As one who experienced physical and emotional abuse in the name of religion, I'm particularly concerned about the harm done by the growing tide of fundamentalism ("Spare the rod and spoil the child"). A book that puts this problem into perspective is called "The Child's Song - the Religious Abuse of Children", by Donald Capps, published by Westminster John Knox Press. The other night, I dreamed that I was addressing a fundamentalist congregation, with the permission of the pastor. However, I was chagrined to discover that I was wearing my pj's (which, naturally, I really was!). But I pressed on, and the congregation seemed to be listening. Maybe I should try to infiltrate their ranks and preach from the pulpit! Any ideas/suggestions would be most welcome. Love, Rob http://www.go.com ______ ____ Get your Free GO Network Email address at http://mail.go.com Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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