The inspiration for this poem came from a story that was told at Messy Church on Saturday. Messy Church is an amazing venture where by different churches do arts and crafts for children on different days. The children get to play and learn about God at the same time. It’s fun, I like it, my daughter absolutely loves it!
Bemusement settled in my mind well before we were asked
to put our hands together, I looked toward Jesus on the stained
glass that gleamed in the sun and listened as the children
recounted the story. Irritation nestling in my eyes.
I told myself it was a kids story, I had no reason to understand
its purpose, perhaps it was purposeless!
Sitting inside the hall where I dance to the beat of old songs
I can hear the empty echo of Thursdays pain vibrating through me,
today is Saturday, today the hall is a community setting.
I gaze across the tables wondering if any of the other
parents had understood the story, they probably had I told
myself. Irritation nestling in my eyes.
I am greeted by name and smiles reign upon me the
sweet tea tastes of comfort and the cake of friendship.
I am happy, I like these people and I like this…church.
But I am not religious and I cannot turn a blind eye to
stories that make no sense, and I remember, for me,
religion makes no sense. Awake alone at the kitchen table the
streets lay empty and quiet, I wonder does it matter
that I did not understand the story told to the children.
Karen Hayward ©2016