GOD’S OWN MAN
Fat, wattled neck, encircled by the starched collar of eternity...unbroken life...
Lump of a body camouflaged by the black skirts of office,
Vestments concealing not only the great rolls of gross overindulgence but
Secrets of a life dedicated to the service of God.
Rapes of altar boys, seductions of parishioner's sons..
('twas whispered an orgy or two at the rectory...)
And a suicide by a rejected youth who jumped from the bridge
Spanning the Galatiz River.
But the homilies...O my friends!...the homilies were perfect, multi-faceted
Gems of wisdom, culled from the true doctrine of the Lord.
“Love ye one another,”...”Do no harm to your brothers in Christ,”...”Sin no more.”
All delivered in the intimate melodious tones of humility
Calculated to warm the chilled hearts of his flock and send them
Back into the world mesmerized by his stagecraft.
That night, lying in bed beside the
Bedraggled youth he had plucked from the dangers of the streets,
He bowed his head momentarily before his
Overstuffed hands greedily grabbed for the boy's thighs.
were there all along
But I couldn't see you for the flawed flotsam
I had fashioned into demigods.
were always there...my friend,
Warm, supportive, sensitive,
But I couldn't see you for the fantasy-men
I worshipped with such unrelenting desperation.
were always there beside me,
Helpful, caring and kind,
But I couldn't see you because of my gnawing need
To feel hurt; to experience yet more anguish and rejection.
you were still there when
The mists of age-old myths
That had veiled my consciousness
Reluctantly relinquished their last wispy vestiges
And I finally broke free...
And for the first time I saw you standing there beside me
© Anya Laurence