A child's confused and literal interpretation of God.
Doctrinal Failure
Your Father, he assured me,
– this earnest evangelical, one day, after school –
is not the one on earth you love,
but God in Heaven: He above.
I was maybe rising seven;
there because it seemed to matter,
and had promised songs and fun.
I hadn’t even told my mum.
We’d built our house upon the Rock
that held the whole world in its hands,
or something. And we’d clapped a lot.
The others seemed to understand.
But – God, my father?
Walking home late, shaken, dreary,
familiar dusty road turned eerie,
I fretted on this thing he’d said
about the terrible Usurper
of my gentle, steadfast Dad.
I felt no kin to Him at all,
as surely He felt none to me;
my spirit dwindled, grey and lonely.
And, what if Dad had always known
of this strange cuckolding Crown?
Was he living a conniving lie?
No! Impossible that he would know.
Oh, how to break it to him now?
I suffered his imagined pain
at the news of God’s disdain.
Mum must have brusquely fixed my doubts;
likely after a few shouts about my late return;
when I’d explained what I had learned.
But through this anxious interlude
I found that far from loving God,
I loved the more my own dear Dad;
and generally, God should not intrude.
I am not a critic. It took reading it through several times to get the rythem. Enjoyable. Thank you.
Did I pick up shades of Henry Lawson there in the metre?
Oh, this is fabulous! And yes and yes and yes! No kid feels anything for god but for their own parents so much more. And to have some god ask for more love than they give their parents? How could a child even begin to understand something so ridiculous, meaningless, and abstract?
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