Christine Phillips | + Follow Poet |
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A Different Tune

Everybody is singing a different tune
Everybody is dancing to a different beat
Everybody is praying to a different God
And here I am feeling very sad
I am here, you are there but I have no fear

The politicians are moving around
The police men are walking up and down
And the vampires are hopping from town to town
Motor cycle racing up and down the street
Rumbling sounds penetrating the sidewalks
And the thumping sound of music 
Meddling in the crowded street 

Taxi and private cars pack up in the gas station
And pedestrians walking and murmuring
Selfish soldiers moving from side to side
Twenty-five of them crammed in a little jeep
Clad in camouflaged uniform,
 I wonder how they bear the heat.
While the villagers in town shouting hallelujah 
in their blood stained gown.

A barrage of bullets scattering in the air gathered people far and near, people scrabbling over one another, some pushing and shoving, dragging and pulling the fallen to clear the busy street. “Look! Aunt Dotty look!”, a screeching emerged quietly from the shadows. They are shouting and running across the border and everything is getting out of order.

The bullets are still firing, “get out of the way before you get hit.”
The old man fell into a terrible fits.  
“Run! Miss Mary run! you have the biggest gun” A voice shout from across the border
“Run ! Miss Mary run!  You can put things in order” the voice gets louder and louder.
I heard another screaming from around the corner
“What have you done to my father?”
Two little children running with their shoes in their hand
Shouting, “mother! mother!  Mother!”
But their mother was nowhere in sight
And morning made a silent cry just before daylight
Day break with ease and I continued my daily routine.

I walked down the road feeling proud of myself for the things that I have done and the victory that I have won. For the first time in almost two years I have felt a real need for fellowship because I have not been into a church for a long time The places that I have been within this period made it illegal to worship. Since I came into this town I have been going about but I still could not find the church that I was looking for
Just the other day the spirit led me astray
 And I behold the church that was hiding in the corner

I went into the Church this morning and the moderator entered in white gown 
 with a colored robe hanging down
And  the procession began with a shout
“What’s going on?” I cleared my throat and  murmur deep within
This is far from what the Methodist worship style is like.
I wanted to hear some traditional hymns but the screaming woman
Started to sing. The choir was out of order and thanks to solo singer who brought back the melody in the song.

I have never been to a Methodist church before that entertains this type of worship so I asked the man sitting beside me if this was the Methodist way of worship, and he said that’s how they worship in Linstead town. I did not want them to feel embarrass so I stuck it out for two long hours and I even miss the lords supper.  The scriptures were carefully chosen, they were encouraging and the message was quite appealing. Only if she had not done so much shouting in the beginning, the service would have been more entertaining and interesting.

Something strange happen for a brief moment. While the service was in session, a man came up and the microphone fell and it could not be used anymore. The moderator almost lost her beautiful voice, just before the final prayer .This was a warning sign that she was out of line.  I was hoping to stay towards the end, but the service was too long and it felt like a competition. When things got unbearable, and I could not stand it any longer I called it a day and quietly sneaked out. It is not my ideal type of worship but I appreciated it and could tolerate it. 
 
I walked across the narrow path outside the church and when I got there I saw a woman and a man sitting on the corner drinking beer
The old chapter is over and a new chapter has just begun. I went home but when I got there, I met another shouting sermon that was louder than the one on the other side of town. I could make much sense of this one so I put my chair under the guava tree next to the big gate and allow the shouting to pass through my ear until it filters into thin air.

Copyright © Christine Phillips | Year Posted 2019

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