Poetic Interlude VI

I go into churches fiercely, with my invisible sword ready.

My God is not their god.

They say things that make you feel good - feel better - feel calm

I cannot hear them through the blood pounding in my head

And the light sparking through my eyes.

I go into churches angrily, with my hands clenched.

I refuse to feel their peace.

Peace comes to me by the river, when I am thinking of jumping

After I have told my mother that the bad thoughts have gone

And I have told my father that I don’t think I can keep going.

I go into churches loudly, with my feet hard against the floor.

God’s love is not translatable.

When I feel love, I feel it in my hands and the back of my neck

I feel fire in my cheeks and ice in my shoulders

I speak ‘Jesu Dulcis’ and hope it means more to Him than to me.