When Women Are Priests That Serve Mass Poem by Sarah Mkhonza

The ruling is out once again,
No woman serving mass here,
But heaven seems not to say,
Only men serving mass here.
Whose is the right to say,
One gender is better than another,
Can we sit and be served mass,
In a world where men are man
And women are we-men.

I like the seeing of this world,
For anything different separates,
And makes one thing to be called,
By a name that is fitting,
Only to be told it is not 'it'

These women who are not to serve,
Are told to be served only,
Who said being served and serving,
Were two different things,
For the server and the served.

The acts of giving out bread,
And sharing the cup of wine,
Are done in the biblical sense,
And yes in an earthly sense,
For in heaven they neither marry,
For gender is a thing of this world.

When priest and popes pop into heaven,
There will be a loud pop sound,
Like that of pop corn burning,
For they refused to serve the corn,
To a whole tribe of people,
When everyone knows that corn,
Is of Mexican heritage.

How can women be denied a task,
By the very corn they popped,
Into this world amidst tears,
Of birthing, planting and weeding
Then harvesting the last crop of the year
After the longest of droughts,
With dads sipping a beer at the bar.

These priestesses no princesses,
Have borne a halo of grace yearly,
Waiting their hands outstretched,
For the serving gowns so male,
They fail to go around their heaps.

Can the God of grace grin just once,
For he has failed to grant the grace,
Of his presence to the minds of men?
In their meetings where nothing but truth,
Ends up shoveled in spoonfuls,
Into the stomachs of a few men,
Who run the richest state in the world.