The preacher addresses her pulpit

You were here before I came
and you’ll be here
when they don’t remember
my sermons anymore.

Stay here – proving I can’t really
move anything.

Prop me up when I’m weary;
lend me the authority
carved into your old timber;
cover my shaking knees
because after all
there is just so much holy talk
I can talk, without feeling
the back of the breath of God.

Keep a grip on my oversized bible,
so it won’t slide off;
shine the bulb
with the old-fashioned pull chain
on the good news;
hide my water glass;
collect my wadded Kleenex
when some funeral
breaks my heart;

and when I sway from some
tired and lonely Saturday night,
stay here,
just stay here –

reminding me that sometimes I am
in the moving business.

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7 Responses to The preacher addresses her pulpit

  1. Lynne Frith says:

    This is just great . Another one of your splendid poems

  2. Jan Fairchild says:

    Splendid. Thank you.

  3. celestem579 says:

    Amen. Blessings, preacher! God bless your particular voice! Celeste

  4. barbara vanausdall says:

    How well I understand this beautiful request – both as pastor’s spouse and lay preacher! My prayers ascend that your requests are granted.

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