Who would I bother if not my God, each
complaint and spinning holler pointed where?
I’ve tried groveling before birds, beseeched
my laptop’s kernel threads for a better,
less mixed-up world. My wife, yes, she loves me
and is human. Mom and dad similar,
but they first weighted me with piety,
Jesus baggage. I tell my familiars
everything but need to scream my head off
in a Bible cocoon so tightly bound
it passes for love, so sharp it can slough
entire selves. Dimly lit, a shrink once found
I should love myself. Who’d pierce me? I thought.
Who would lure me through depths and not be caught.
Apology for Belief
More: Poetry
Show Comments ()
The latest from america
Today’s update from the pope’s doctors dispels the widespread alarm by Friday’s bronchial spasm. An informed Vatican source confirmed that “there have been no negative consequences from that crisis.”
Pope Francis’ clinical condition “remains stable” and is better than yesterday, according to the latest medical report from his doctors in Rome’s Gemelli Hospital, which the Vatican released just before 7 p.m. on the evening of March 1.
The Trump administration “immediately terminated” its contract with the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops for refugee resettlement, effective Feb. 27, according to letters issued by the U.S. State Department a day earlier.
At the National Catholic Prayer Breakfast, Vance said he wasn’t there to litigate “about who’s right and who’s wrong,” and credited Francis as one who “cares about the flock of Christians under his under his leadership.”