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,

South

"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

God?

Myself a young woman

Grown and raised in faith

Never once questioning the errors

Of the church I once called

Home

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

"Blossoming"

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

"Amen"