Belief
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This is an observational poem. I write about what I see and sometimes .... it is not all sweetness and light.
An old man kneels on a hard cold floor,
He shuts out the world and is lost in prayer,
There is nothing he wants to have more
Than the knowledge that God is there.
He is so sincere in the words that he utters,
So humbly when praying he bows down his head,
He does not hear the surrounding mutters,
He strains to hear the Lord speaking instead.
But what is religion, is what we're told real,
Can you say if the Bible's an imaginary tale?
What is this faith that this man can feel,
And what of the hypocrites at the rail?
They might accept Communion every week,
Because they think it's the right thing to do.
A rise in the social world's what they seek
And looking for some scandal that's new.
Oh yes, many go to the church of their choice,
And sing all the psalms and hymns gladly.
Some wonder if others notice their good voice,
And then of other people think badly.
But the old man keeps to his simple belief,
He does not ask much when he speaks to the Lord;
Humbly asks for forgiveness, prays for relief
For the world, and believes God hears every word.
Copyright © Mavis Jackson | Year Posted 2017
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