Savior's Sinner

Good boy from Atlanta,

Never wrote a note to Santa,

Cause it’s not what God commanded on the hill.

His pop, too came from Georgia.

At 19, survived a torture,

But he went out on the orchard, not the pill.

His mama from Kentucky,

Used to fancy herself lovely,

Thinking love was something lucky just for her.

The two, did raise one good boy,

A buttoned, neighborhood boy,

Didn’t fuss and played with wood toys in the dirt.

On Sunday mornings,

They would hear the voices soaring

As the sinners in the chorus sang their song.

He took to praising Jesus,

Gave out blessings after sneezes,

And gave his schoolmates reasons to belong.

After college, took to altar

Where his Truth could never falter

And he sermonized like autumn air at dawn.

Not long since he believed it.

But now it’s all facetious

His blessings self-defeating.

With a hand in his breeches,

He's stroking gospel readings,

Like a pair of Georgia peaches,

Doesn’t practice what he preaches anymore.

'Cause as he prayed before the tree light,

Met a father born in Detroit,

Who wore a collar real tight,

Who'd never had a real fight,

Bent truth like a priest might,

Was running from his real life,

With the swing set and the pretty wife at home.

And if he were caring,

Then he would have prepared him

For the feeling that ensnared him as they lay.

All flesh and bone,

Like the hardness of a stone,

Padre upon his thrown gave God away.

Beneath the night sky,

He would feel inside his right thigh,

All silence save his light sigh like in church

At first he was so scared to,

With that First communion hairdo,

Still reading words of prayer to Sister Birch.

Now savior’s become sinner,

But his guilt is waning thinner,

As they make each other dinner and dessert.

He kneels to thank the lord,

Who said only say the word,

And walk into the light on toward rebirth.