Sunday, March 11, 2007

A Shaman In the Melon Bin

I was a melon wanting to be thumped in the grocery store
(Hearing it go on all day)

And it sounded good, the thumps, thumps and touch
That came before someone left who was chosen.

Then by chance, I saw my surroundings,
Saw with shaman eyes
The mysterious message of God against our rinds
Is His inscrutable self-interest ----- Irrelevant then,

And we have in this clear chilled world
Only our own love:

How misplaced that love is
To make a cult of being chosen!

It was about then,
Someone tried to sell me their religion.

2 comments:

ordinarygirl said...

I really like the point of view you use for the poem. It's original and very fitting for the point you're making.

Paul said...

You just made my morning! Thank you, Ordinary Girl!