The New Religion
The body is a nation I have not known.
The pure joy of air: the moment between leaping
from a cliff into the wall of blue below. Like that.
Or to feel the rub of tired lungs against skin-
covered bone, like a hand against the rough of bark.
Like that. “The body is a savage,” I said.
For years I said that: the body is a savage.
As if this safety of the mind were virtue
not cowardice. For years I have snubbed
the dark rub of it, said, “I am better, Lord,
I am better,” but sometimes, in an unguarded
moment of sun, I remember the cowdung-scent
of my childhood skin thick with dirt and sweat
and the screaming grass.
But this distance I keep is not divine,
for what was Christ if not God’s desire
to smell his own armpit? And when I
see him, I know he will smile,
fingers glued to his nose, and say, “Next time
I will send you down as a dog
to taste this pure hunger.”
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Submitted by Nazetel on September 01, 2021
Modified on March 05, 2023
- 53 sec read
- 7 Views
Quick analysis:
Scheme | ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTP |
---|---|
Closest metre | Iambic pentameter |
Characters | 863 |
Words | 178 |
Stanzas | 1 |
Stanza Lengths | 21 |
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"The New Religion" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 10 May 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/108288/the-new-religion>.
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