Cleansed?

A simple poem on religion.

Cleansed?

A building, small unimposing
Filled with voices,
Happy, joyous voices
articulating together hymns of redemption
Hands raised
Energy flows through
A tangible faith
lifted by force of thought,
a darkness lingers there.
Hidden like dirty laundry,
a bastard child unwelcome
a virus thriving in the word,
ignorance breeding the faith.
Molding shaping, raping minds,
hurting innocents with false love, cold love.
“Care for them, love them all,
hate the sinners sin.
Give them the crimson son’s blood”
The sacrificial lamb, a name in vain
the purity to cleanse.
Purging the sins of the imagination
sins of normality, nature, biology.
Do YOU find peace in these pews?
Is this the peace you seek?
Does your heart feel whole?
Did the crimson son’s blood wash away the dirt, your darkness?
Or by the very nature of design are we,
the darkness hiding the light of our own souls?
Are we to be free of the Judgmental holy books we prey on?