The Usher And The Envelope - Poem by maggie signaigo
Each Sunday he collected the plates
to this customary spot
and he locked the door behind him
security, safekeeping, and the lot.
He began to count and sort the take
to make certain intents were met
Each dollar had a destination
different goals the Church had set.
But this envelope was different
not your ordinary find.
No special instructions noted
or earmarks of any kind.
The envelope was heavy and thick
and it stood out from the rest.
An eerie feeling came over him
his heart skipped a beat in his chest.
A musky smell filled the room
as he opened and looked inside,
this envelope of question
and the mystery it did hide.
The bills were old and ragged
not new…or crisp and clean.
Ben Franklin’s face was on each one
there were more than he had ever seen.
Astonished and in disbelief
he sat back in his chair
curious as to the origin of this gift
and the smell that filled the air.
Hurriedly he rose, and opened the door
peered out at the congregation.
Trying to recall the seat and pew
responsible for this donation.
He saw the wrinkled envelope
as it was dropped into the plate.
But he paid little attention to the face
and now it was far too late.
To understand the reasons why
people do the things they do.
To rid themselves of guilt and sin
and to their own morals remain true.
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