Young Goliath
He wasn’t smart
Nor was he pretty
Big enough for
Eighth grade at two
What a pity
His mother hid
In the closet
And left his food
At the door
Goliath Goes To Church
Who’s that hulk
In the front row
He doesn’t belong
Out of place here.
I can tell them
From the back
Don’t you know
They come and go?
Oh, Master Dispenser of Grace!
It is like a wave so high
Yet does not slam us
Into the sand
It almost tickles!
It sets us in a state of joy
When we are in a painful way
As we stray from the hope of
That great come and get it day.
I was brought up in a staunch religious world being taught that my religion was the best one, the true one. I was brought close to the altar serving Mass at the age of 5 or 6. I memorized Latin. The first two words | learned in Latin were. “Ad Deum” or ” To God Who is hey joy of my youth”. Ad Deum qui laetificat, juventutem meam, meaning “To God Who is the joy of my youth”. That was many years ago. Since then, my life has been indelibly affected by “the church”. For years, I hardly asked questions about what it all meant. It was so illustrious and mysterious to me that I just followed.