Once Like You I Was A Catholic, Then A Baptist, Then A Lutheran Poem by James McLain

He would come to my house late but not to late
trusting him, mum would let him lead me out.

Slender beams of moonlight entered through
his stained glass windows unknown colors that meant
that it was night.

No light's meant I knew he had plan's, unnatural plan's
plan's that were by he carried out twice a week.

Entering the darkened church he would always with his hand
push me down to kneel,
the oak hurt my knee's always in prayer, always a slave,
frozen there in the dark, in the dark waiting.


Tortured forms, pictures shown to me by he, figures wrought
in traced iron,
panes of glass that loomed as large as he.
Of where I'd go and what I'd be, if I didn't cooperate.

His breath smelled of spirits at my young age an image in my mind,
pulling me out, penetrating my young naked flesh.

Realization dawning on a young child's mind.
I raise my head, now caressing, this oblivious truth.
His was the truth twice a week, he brought food
to mum twice a week, mum and me where then on welfare.