Alone In a Church

Sat alone and stark on a brown chair, Not even knowing what to do with, Simon and Garfunkel’s I Am A Rock, Just an isolated island heavy as death. I didn’t even want to be there cheering, Adding to the multitude of the church, But taught that our family had its own, Morality, polity and principles, I sank. Not my fault if I have read the Bible, That literary glory sprawled in canopy; Ignore me if I understand the gospels, In a way that’s not at all evangelical. Less of your begging oh Christian, Chat about universities for a time; The ice-age has been, rivers remain, Shunning stains the life of the free. Quietly, I feel they used my disability, Discriminating since I could not walk, Mingle at the end of the service politely, Relinquishing my caring spirit known. I needed met, befriended by someone, Who’d actively remove or assimilate me, With a carer from the state or school, To prevent me from a mental illness. Just sat by yourself, just as a sore thumb, Tested afterwards to assert you’d coped, Because after all, that would be god’s will, For your essential child development. 5th November 2015