A Sacred Wind

Today, let’s praise those with true daring,
Those who fart in church.

Perhaps the product is just the tiniest squeak,
As if a mouse stepped forward to say something
Before a gathering of cats.

Maybe it’s a terrible roar,
One that shakes the very pew upon which you sit,
Like vicious flames tearing from the dark corners of hell.

Either way, such audacity must be commended.
It’s the fearlessness with which these culprits
Foul the sacred air that lingers
From the hallowed pulpit through the high rafters.

Please, God, do not scorn us.
Rather, receive our gifts as an offering.
Though we may seem too bold,
We break barriers between you and your flock.
With this simple bodily function, new doors open.

Maybe some day, people will no longer be afraid
To hold it in.
And whole congregations will sing to the Lord,
Not with their mouths,
But their asses.