deepundergroundpoetry.com

SHACKLED

his soul    
was a shiny plate in his
childish imagination
and every lie  
a stain  
and every secret  
a blackish smudge upon it,  
indelible  
despite the promises
and incantations
and poor ol' bloody jesus  
with his mournful eye  
and thorny heart  
and goddamn, lord,  
there weren't no hiding  
in your garden,  
no sneaking past  
your knowing  
and he was just a boy,  
undeserving  
of the taint of sin  
he carried 'till  
the day he died
javalini
Written by javalini
Published | Edited 31st Aug 2020
Author's Note
A poem about religion -- about growing up among believing Roman Catholics.
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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LilDragonFly
Commenting Preference: 
The author encourages honest critique.

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