Religious Protection Poem by Rebecca Marie Parkinson

This here what I behold
The blood and the body
Is it our Christ of old?
Or yet one other tormented soul?
Desperately clinging to a vestige of hope
Weakly fighting the roaring darkness
This could be another Pope
More like a scheming bishop

Do you hear those notes?
Softness of the Moonlight Sonata
Clarity sowing it’s oats
Languidly to the tune
This is no Christ or lord
Just the cause of a broken heart
Whose awful wailing chord
Is soon to make a song

Do the angels above weep?
When they see a sight like this?
Or for a thousand years of sleep
Has there never been a tear shed?
Do the angels and their lord mock us?
Struggling blindly through Purgatory
Or do they love and cherish us?
Granting moments of blissful reprieve