via Daily Prompt: Fraud

Fraud, a technically erroneous poem.

 

Birthed by water, twice. No, thrice. Four, at most.

In the name of the father, and of the son and the holy ghost.

Read this fable, heed this passage, and make of it what you will.

Seek me on Sabbath day, you have bowls to fill.

 

In unison we recite, dutifully, mindlessly, ten times.

Silent in our shared bewilderment between these lines.

Hands raised, heads low, eyes closed to show sincerity.

Seeking his blessings, and pleading for mercy.

 

I want to believe, let me believe, I’ll pray praise be.

Acceptance, love, forgiveness for all that makes me, me.

Covered in the dirt that is my greed, my sex, my hate.

Washed away with words of the exemplary chaste.

 

Again and again, we look to his imagined face.

Faithfully dressed in the same old sins, a disgrace.

Like a chorus, we chant those repenting words once more.

We remain human, forevermore.

Fraud

 

2 thoughts on “On my knees

  1. Well yes, there is that… But, perhaps you’d allow me to share an anecdote with you. It’s something I ruminate on when I’m feeling like I’m “not enough.” It’s from author Neil Gaiman’s blog:

    Some years ago, I was lucky enough invited to a gathering of great and good people: artists and scientists, writers and discoverers of things. And I felt that at any moment they would realise that I didn’t qualify to be there, among these people who had really done things.

    On my second or third night there, I was standing at the back of the hall, while a musical entertainment happened, and I started talking to a very nice, polite, elderly gentleman about several things, including our shared first name. And then he pointed to the hall of people, and said words to the effect of, “I just look at all these people, and I think, what the heck am I doing here? They’ve made amazing things. I just went where I was sent.”

    And I said, “Yes. But you were the first man on the moon. I think that counts for something.”

    And I felt a bit better. Because if Neil Armstrong felt like an imposter, maybe everyone did. Maybe there weren’t any grown-ups, only people who had worked hard and also got lucky and were slightly out of their depth, all of us doing the best job we could, which is all we can really hope for.

    Like

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