Sonnet Sunday 6: The Worshippers

Somehow I’ve gotten through the first six sonnets without publishing a single truly religious one! Given that they make up most of my sonnets, it’s kind of a shock.

This is another one from the ill-fated book of poetry. It actually held up pretty well. Not necessarily the best poem ever, but I only changed a couple of lines.

The Worshippers


Proclaim a God of love into a world
Of broken hearts and people—this is His
Commandment to disciples.  Flags unfurled
And banners raised, we sing out “Christ is riz!”
And then, back home, fall prey to daily stress.
We drown our message deep in alcohol
We grieve our sins, yet make a bigger mess—
Or maybe, like me—this is worst of all—
We go back to our ordinary lives
And maybe bow our knees occasionally
We’ll go to church on Sunday, pay our tithes—
Complacency will rule our destiny.
No longer living faith out day to day,
It is to self—and not to God—we pray.