Congregation
Granite stones,
chiseled by God alone,
lie scattered across acres
of Appalachian forest floor.
As missionaries seek the lost,
he kicks over leaves,
searches under the corpses
of oaks - decades deceased,
until he finds every lost soul.
Carries prodigals one-by-one,
liberates from apparent
darkness and the dank
mountain soil,
baptizes them with sweat.
Blood of calloused hands
leave seals of atonement
on a wall of separation.
Congregation does not deviate,
assembled together, close-knit.
Straight is their way,
narrow is their path.
Sheep on the right,
goats on the left.
Salvation is free.
C.T. Bailey
Granite stones,
chiseled by God alone,
lie scattered across acres
of Appalachian forest floor.
As missionaries seek the lost,
he kicks over leaves,
searches under the corpses
of oaks - decades deceased,
until he finds every lost soul.
Carries prodigals one-by-one,
liberates from apparent
darkness and the dank
mountain soil,
baptizes them with sweat.
Blood of calloused hands
leave seals of atonement
on a wall of separation.
Congregation does not deviate,
assembled together, close-knit.
Straight is their way,
narrow is their path.
Sheep on the right,
goats on the left.
Salvation is free.
C.T. Bailey