With a Jewish father and a Catholic mother on vacations we were always unsure what to do
Was it St. Christopher or Yahweh who would hear our prayers…on road trips…we never knew.
We finally came up with a plan that we knew couldn’t be wrong….
We decided we’d be safer if we let both of them ride along..
As I grew older I never found a religion I could completely get behind…
So I’ve tried to follow one doctrine every religion possesses…in two simple words…Be Kind.
But that doesn’t stop me during a vacation on a road trip short or long….from riding with my St. Christopher’s medal…and bringing all the Gods along…
Allah, Jesus,…Brahman…I invite whether traveling in this country or abroad…
I even ask the Buddha (who never professed to be a God).
But they all believed in being kind…a wonderful epithet….
besides…when it comes to road trips and vacations…I like to hedge my bets.
Which is why on this road trip you’ll find many a God riding with me…on my shoulders…unabashed…
you’ll also find St. Christopher in my pocket…
and the Buddha on my dash.
My brave grandfather fought in the trenches
there he saw things that no man should see
With blood of his comrades he drenches
so exhausted, yet he dodged bullets every day
and bravely soldiered on so that we could be free
Ultimately with his own life he sadly had to pay
His St Christopher medallion he wore with pride
It was discovered amongst all the wartime debris
and was returned to grandmother after he died
I wear his medallion since it’s been passed down to me
FICTIONAL POEM
Rhyme Time 4- 10 Lines Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Laura Loo
6/25/18
The sun is setting
on the brick roads
around St. Bernadette's.
Her statue is next to my car.
She kneels before Mary
hands clasped, faith apparent.
Tonight they prayed --
the young couples toward the front
the old people one hand on their hearts
the children mumbling to themselves
"Lord, make us saints, give us
strength to bear the cross." But I
could not say the words. I saw
the roots of St. Appollonia's teeth
clenched in the pinchers
St. Lucy's eyes held out before her
on a golden plate.
So I mouthed them like a coward
and fled into the summer air
where I thought I would find Your forgiveness.
Instead all I can see is:
St. Christopher on my dashboard,
the burden on his shoulders.
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