Worship

I wasn’t raised religious
And he told me he believes
But I’ve been to church a few more times
and worshipped from my knees
the cross than hands on beaded chain,
resting up on his bare chest
Lord,
I beg you spare me from,
This,
most wicked test

He lifted me in silence
from lustful veneration
his body exorcised by mine
Priestess
of revelation

He brought me home to mama,
held me high in hesitation,
Blinded by the bloodied hands
of delicious fornication
But
Somewhere in the middle
of appetite and need
Visited the holy word
of which we were to heed

She told me, “We’re good Christians,
Always given grace to God.
My advice ain’t what you came here for…
But your vulnerability,
I applaud.
I don’t know what you believe in,
Or to what deity you worship,
But those that find the strength to ask,
receive their mighty courtship.”

Well lately I’ve been praying,
for holy intervention
Oh, Father, won’t you save me from
his most divine intention?

Between cowboys and angels,
I stand sweetly in surrender,
to watch you wonder quietly
at night, who holds me tender?
And
have you ever stopped to ask,
in your silent reverie,
or are you too afraid to know,
whose father I beg mercy?

Recognize in reverence,
this utmost divine hour,
I know without uncertainty
he is my Higher Power.