Just Thinking Poem by Andrea Bailey

I stand alone surveying all the pain
we savor; stored for future use again,
and wonder why the wounds are so revered
that men and women vaunt their pious tears.

Lie with sin, alive in flaming flashes:
live your lives, before you turn to ashes.
Chaste is wasted charm, if only shielding
thoughts of passion, eager to be yielding.

Let the clerics pounce upon the evil,
though their zealous rage is so medieval.
But, perhaps, some truthful revelations
will correct their dismal superstitions.

We are blamed for thoughts of sensuous need:
the chosen progenies of Adam’s seed.
Read again the scriptures in the Garden,
saying we must pay for their divined sin.

Dry your tears and live the life you’re given.
You may stray, but you will be forgiven.
Great or fading life: rush for roles to play,
for there may never be another day!