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It was unpardonable to burp after communion, 
Even though I felt so full up that I felt quite sick, 
Because my parents wanted to know in ambition, 
If I placed it above my very own body, my wick. 

I just smiled broadly to the minister after the burp, 
Hoping he would resettle the congregation quickly, 
But expecting a conversation on disability, no usurp, 
A private one, between me and him, quite abruptly. 

He said, “No, No, No Rhoda, we can’t do that. Ok.” 
So I swallowed, and a tear appeared in my eye, 
And in the next few weeks my behaviour was away, 
So he looked at me in the eye, and bid me why. 

So we talked about how the mission felt about disability, 
And about how they felt about my disability particularly, 
And he looked at me straight in the eye again, in actuality, 
And said, “Disability to us is your disability, ok,” really. 

From then on everything was ok, and I tried to relate, 
About care, helping me walk, Pizza Hut and singing, 
To the youth leaders, to the YF, and to my nice mate, 
Even though I was a Christian atheist neatly springing. 

I explained that my parents were forcing me to eat, 
Trying to make me ill at church and calling it disability, 
So Brian the minister had them in to his office, a feat, 
And reprimanded them for retarding my capability. 

Faith in god becomes real when applied to the body, 
When applied to the physical it becomes a proposition, 
So every minister must discern for a severe, anybody, 
Whether they want a relationship with divination.

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