The Body of Christ

Author’s note – this poem contains material of a sensitive nature. It does in no way reflect the view of The Hysteria Collective, nor seek to cause upset. It is merely a reflection on my past.

Thank you,


"The Body of Christ"

Held up on high
I dare not look too long
But I don't look at you either
I bow my head
Like I have been taught to
I do not give you the satisfaction
With your cream robes
Clean robes
Ordinary day green robes
Receding hairline
Thou art more holy than I
And yet
Do I fair better in the eyes of
Myself a young woman
Grown and raised in faith
Never once questioning the errors
Of the church I once called
Now I tiptoe through the doors
Wishing to remain seen only by the eyes of the Lord
But the doors slam shut behind me
Announcing my arrival
Revealing I have returned
Like a feeble resemblance of the Messiah
Alerting you of my presence
Unwanted attention
You say I'll make it to Heaven
But how can I trust mankind
When a kind man to whom I entrust my darkest secrets
Who stroked my cheek as a child
Tries again to do so when I'm 16
Places his hands too far down my back
Digs his fingers too tightly into my shoulder
Tells me I'm
Into a beautiful young woman
You may see no harm in your words
You could claim the world is poisoning my thoughts
Give me penance for my sins and lend a verse or two
But no.
You are no better than the reptile of Eden
My faith a forbidden fruit you dangle in front of me
Each smile laced with something I couldn't place when I was small
But as I have grown
I realise my body has received similar looks from
Sleazy men outside bars at 11pm on a Friday
But from
Clergymen on the altar at 9am on a Sunday?
Surely that's sinful.

"The body of Christ" you repeat

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