Poetry: The Church

The Church
By Mayborn Lyngdoh R

In the horizon she rose;
Kissing the tears of the night away.
Faintly the church-bell chimed as on a staff,
Perfected by the collaboration of the sky
Leading my parents through the aisle,
A child to be baptized
In the sweet communion of –
The Father, The Son, and The Holy Spirit.

But,
Thirteen years hence
Left him baffled.
The Church has different names?!
He saw no John or Peter,
But a Saul in every mortar
Raising a flag different from his brothers.
Like the Champion; he was blinded,
Only to see.
Behold there lies a Lucifer who in beauty once shone.
He hides behind every Delilah,
Making you a Mortar’s pawn.
The sickle undid by the sword.
In strength lies your greatest weakness.

The city of fine gold is my eternity.
The hour is at hand.
Wake up! Oh! Mortar’s pawn,
Seek before time is done;
Seek –
And ye will find.
As my night dawned.
In living opium, I live.

No,                                   
I am no Nehemiah or a Joshua to lead,
But I will build a temple where my Saviour dwells.
Cleansed,
Prepared for Jerusalem.
Singing praises with the Saints.
New Jerusalem arises, behold the Groom,
Gabriel will blow his horn-
On this day my friend, rejoice!
For we are “The Church”.

Mayborn  Lyngdoh R
Dated – 10-09-12