Friday, February 1, 2019

Childish Things

Church bells clank and clamor
to welcome the shuffle of the devout
ascending stone, chapel steps.

As a youth, I was among them,
dutiful and wide-eyed, 
walking in the light of the redeemed
at my father's side.  

The bells sang
of a warring celestial realm, 
unseen to the sinner's eye, 
where armies of white-winged cherubs 
collide with silver-tongued devil armies
in a storybook crusade 
for man's eternal soul.  

The price of entry,
our untried imagination 
laid bare upon an alter gilded 
with the blood sacrifice 
frightened ancestors bargained 
to appease a jealous and vengeful Divine.  

A promise of holy reward 
animated our step, 
held fast our gaze upward 
to the heavenly chorus sounding
from the bell tower.  

We received it
with unquestioning assent,
heard it spoke in parable and psalm,
understood it as impressionable children
enamored of the treasures awaiting
god-fearing boys and girls. 

Believing came easy as skinning
a knee.


**First published in Castabout Literature & Arts Review