Fading Spirituality
They've wanted me to confess
my sins
to a man I did not know
yet I pondered as a child
which way shall I go
an alter boy
with a tad of an ego
confess my hurtful feelings
to a priest
whose seeds, I would not sow
through out the annals of time
the immoral, unjust, lied
while they cover up
their transgressions, they laughed and scoffed
while we cried
I now see clearly
there will indeed be weeping and
gnashing of teeth
to no avail
yet while I sit here
in an empty pew
parishioner-less
on a Sunday afternoon
still searching for truth indeed and
never seeing
the holy grail
poem by Matt Mondschein
Added by Poetry Lover
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