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By Phil
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18 December 2006 |
This goes with the work over on non-fiction: The Arrogance of Truth. The laying on of hands
They circled their prey like hungry lions,
Ready to feed off the weak and dying.
They were ready to validate their own faith
In an act that served none but themselves.
Hands on victim they raised eyes heavenward.
Holy, holy, holy, Lord God Almighty.
They communed with Christ while others stood awed -
Or disgusted, according to belief.
Mum lay dying in the hands of morons
Who thought their showy scene would save the day.
Christ didn’t come Deus ex Machina. Mum died. - They felt the glory of god.
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Written by IronMaiden (9 comments posted) 18th December 2006 | wow, pretty evocative and bitter-sounding. I like the first stanza because it sets the scene and concept very well, including the hungry lions bit (I'm so glad you didn't write anything about a pack of wolves!).
In the third stanza you've delivered your point very well, pretty much like a hammer blow, with "Mum lay dying in the hands of morons". I really liked that line.
And then I especially liked the bottom, isolated phrase. It's very final, delivers the last dose of sarcasm and bitterness, and leaves you there to think. |
Written by Witzl (1585 comments posted) 18th December 2006 | | This is a good poem, Phil. It does sound bitter, but I can certainly understand. I had a cousin who died of colon cancer at a fairly young age. She could easily have been saved by surgery, but refused treatment, preferring to be healed by her faith. It is very hard to witness that sort of thing and not feel angry and bitter. | HI again Phil
Written by jean.day (2366 comments posted) 18th December 2006 | This is such powerful poetry - and somehow seems much angrier than your accompanying prose offering.
But I am not quite sure why you are angry - or who you are angry at - God? your parents for believing in something that didn't work out? the church people who were so sure of themselves and their faith - which didn't deliver from your point of view?
I don't question your take on this at all - but wonder if your mother also, as she lay dying, felt like she had been duped? |
Written by Novu (12 comments posted) 19th December 2006 | ----Philosophy is questions that may never be answered. Religion is answers that may never be questioned.-----
I'm an atheist, so my viewpoint may be different from others, but I did like this poem. I find it strange that people can rely entirely on faith, even when they are close to death or they see another dying, strange but also intriguing.
Powerful and full of the strength of your own beliefs aside from theirs. With the reading of your non-fiction pieces as well as this, it develops a full picture of your understanding of your own beliefs and others.
Thanks
Novu | Much more direct ...
Written by johniebg (553 comments posted) 20th December 2006 | ... but I guess your mother, from what I read of your other essays would have wanted it this way.
It is very interesting to see how you are recording this, especially your related non-fiction essays, which are detailed almost as you recorded them through childs eyes, I think this makes everything very much more powerful.
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Written by ellipinnock (1786 comments posted) 21st December 2006 | Very powerful piece Phil. Rough around the edges maybe but makes up for it for me in terms of sheer emotional impact especially that last line - brutal. I haven't got round to reading all of the accompanying prose yet but I wonder how much of a cathartic process this has been for you in the writing?
Elli |
Written by rilLie (328 comments posted) 22nd December 2006 | really powerful and emotional, Phil. I must say, I like your poems a lot.  | food for thought
Written by fortunato364 (21 comments posted) 11th March 2008 | This certainly provokes debate. I sympathise somewhat as I lost my father to cancer just over ten years ago now. I do agree that there are elements in religion that can be destructive but in Dad's case, I think he was actually helped by it - the local minister came to have a chat with him a few times and I think it helped him spiritually. We all went to church as children but Dad never joined us - he had been brought up by his grandmother going to chapel 3 times on Sunday and I think it put him off, although I don't think he ever actually stopped believing in God - I'm not sure you can when you're brought up to it. For myself, I'm not a churchgoer these days but there have certainly been times when faith has helped to keep me sane.
I like the poem; it's very abstract - I don't really get a sense of where it's all taking place, but the impression of personal anger comes through very strongly. And it gets you thinking - which is always good! |
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