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Poem

The lichgate hangs on worn out hinge and sways in the summer breeze
I wonder who and how many have crossed its threshold
Why did they need to enter this road to seek religious sanction in an ancient church?
What triggers this need?
Do we need to justify our lives to ourselves or to others?

I now look back over three score years
Of outrageous fun and bitter tears
The drunken brawls with boot and fist
The memory blurred through being pissed
The searing pain when a loved ones lost
The loosing bet with heavy cost 
Of women I tricked into my bed
Guilt was never in my head

I’ve seen great wealth and poverty
Yet neither seems to affect me
Life is ugly life is pretty
I do not feel the need to pity
I found a girl to be my wife
Who I have loved throughout my life 
To me somehow it just seems odd
I just don’t see the point in God

I gazed again at the hanging gate and thought of those who have entered.
The newborn child to be blessed and christened into the faith and given its name.
The choir who would practice singing mostly tuneless songs to praise their God.
The preacher invariably dressed in outlandish garb in the hope it gives authority.
The couple that are in love and share many secrets yet feel they must stand before an oddly dressed man and tell him of their love.
The congregation who arrive each week to listen to this preacher man commanding they live by his rules.
The dead who arrive in wooden box

To me religion does not fit
I just can’t see the point of it
And yet the lichgate draws them in
To ask redemption for their sin
To me a life is lived for fun
Unjustified to anyone
I’ve seen the world, and loved a wife
No need to justify my life

The lichgate still swings to and fro
Is there something I don’t know?

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