My guilt poked me with the devil's fork,

At the back of my head, from the rear pew

And all the wrong I had done came

Searching for me that tranquil morning.

I was tied in within by haunting memories,

With words and sights that cling tightly

As blood sucking leeches to drain my soul.

My past came to me at the pew while I

Had my head curved with the saints,

It dragged me bleeding on barbed wires

And thorn bushes, through the isle.

I found myself sobbing at the altar

Before the sermon began, with squeaking

Joints and quaking lips - that wanted truth.

My eyes massaged the preacher's shoes

While he paused to study my face

And read me out like a bible verse:

"There is no condemnation in those who are in Christ Jesus"

The saints stood up with an applauding "Amen",

I fell on my knees to wail off my misery

But the preacher pulled me up with a hug.