Sunday Poem: Bereft

Another College Poem

I at least partially don’t agree with it now. Or call it perilously close to a weasel way out of obediance. But perhaps that was my point.
1:39 AM 2/12/88

Bereft

So would you, if Christ were sitting right here
Be doing this same without any fear
that he’d think you a fool to be watching this face
and if you had doubts he’d remove every trace

 And you’d know by his voice
 That you had not a choice
  But to do just what he had said

Yes, Yes, I know, it’s true, I agree.
But he is not here to tell it to me
 So thus I must ask myself this:

 Is this face lovely?
 Is this face godly?
 Does this face cause you to sin?

 And sir, my answer:

 This face, no perfection
 But with some inspection
 The sin part is not brought within

And if every face, reflecting a sin
Must be removed, then look again
That other face, of which you view
Must go as well, it must go, too.
 So what have we left?
 We now are bereft,
  Of all things that can entertain

 Can we all then keep
 Our dreams, yet not sleep?
  I hope so, again and again

And if there’s no cure,
we’ll find out for sure,
When we’re dead, Ma’am, when we are dead