On The Other Side Of My Religion Poem by Seamus O' Brian

lust of the flesh, lust of the eyes,
pride of life, her clenching jaw
grimly set, each phrase incised
daring us sinners, although not raw,

yet green, us boys, under August days,
sunburnt skin chafing Sunday whites
us boys her gavel-striking gaze
aimed to breach lust's tempting bite;

though her scowl, corners ratcheted down
by the keel of her jaw in judgement poised
seemed abundantly sufficient in pride endowed
but to us deficient, perhaps, in lusts enjoyed.

Her soul, a carcass drained of all vitality
by the spidery fangs of religiosity
seemed less a warning against apostasy
than the joyless desiccation of the Pharisee.

I've searched within my hours and years
The miles I've walked and mountains climbed
Torridly flowered alpine glens spilt joyful tears
from eyes o'erwhelmed in glories sublime

and here I find, not chance, but One
who does not bear a master's chains nor whip
But as a Father says, "Please, Child, come
My love is not earned, it is my gift

even as all the beauty of earth is yours
And your love and gratitude will surely gain
what laws of men, vain rituals fail to secure
My heart, my love, my home, my Name.'