Deep Dyed And Drowning Poem by Andy Brookes

Sin maybe washed away yet still sticks like grey river mud,
oozing redemption, surly we know God forgives
but man he keeps the story young, things best left forgot.
scabs peeled back and flung in faces at low ebb

so we strip the skin off the martyr like an orange
to expose his flesh, bitter gall to infuse the heart.
the priest told me to atone with white hail Mary's
but then I saw him getting down and dirty,
still with pious airs on his face.

so sing songs of loneliness, love sinners not the sin,
they say.............. who the hell are they? I ask.
yet we condemn good men for truth, praise bad for lies
so we troubadours, sojourners and sometime poets.
realise as the sun set nears get to wondering,
have we always been drowning?