Religion

On Monday through to Saturday
I often make the time to pray
I speak my worries and give voice
To all my little hopes and joys
And in despair or misery
My first words are, “Dear God, help me!”
I concentrate with all my might
To feel Him there, just out of sight
My trembling faith, now bright, now dim
Is just between myself and Him
The Trinity, the creed and such
Don’t seem to matter very much
And if the Bible on my shelf
Appears to contradict itself
As Dawkins and his ilk all say
Well, I don’t read it anyway
Not Monday through to Saturday

I feel a presence, whole and pure
And even though I can’t be sure
Exactly what its name may be
No matter, for it seems to me
That something powerful and great
Is there, concerned about my fate
So many times I could have died
But someone must be on my side
Because, although I often think
My ship of life is bound to sink
For all the times I’ve erred and sinned
Some kindly current, helpful wind
In guise of fluke or happenstance
Provides me with a fighting chance

So Monday through to Saturday
I do my best, but by the way
Enjoy such company as mocks
The bells and incense, candles, frocks
And scandals that we read about
Concerning folk who, though devout
Appear to be as flawed as those
Who never hear a church door close
Behind them, and then kneel in prayer
To something powerful out there

And yet, when Sunday comes around
Unfailingly I will be found
With humble heart and bended knee
Inside my local C. of E.
I sing the hymns and read the Book
And force myself to overlook
Whatever doubts I may recall…
On Sundays I believe it all

Will Hames
January 2009