I have drunk from,
Your chalice of indifference.
I have eaten far too much bread,
From the yeast of your Pharisees.
I have shut my eyes,
To block out your religious posturing.
I have stilled my heart,
To quiet your religious fervour.
For to me, Your wine,
Becomes the Blood, that flowed
Down Your face.
As You wept for me in the garden.
And to me, Your bread,
Becomes Your Body, that broke
On the cross at that final moment.
When darkness covered the earth.
It is so, much more to me,
Than religion and ritual.
When you breathe life into my soul,
And give strength, to my weak heart.
I am compelled, to run from this place.
My soul beats its wings, as I feel Your presence.
But Your Blood flowed for me,
To content my wild heart.
So, to a world – that I long to change,
And to a nation – for which I weep.
May Your blood and body,
Transform, my aching heart.
Leave a Reply