Will The Church Ever Change? Poem by Quame Boatmann

Will the church ever change?
Its beginning was like a rose flower
Blossomed bright red soft petals
With fresh moist emerald sepals
On a strong spiky stalk
Sweet smelling scent of nature
Sweet smell so alluring
Fills the air, made fresh

I saw as I observed
Bright red in the midst of dim greys
Calling all eyes to itself
Tempting all hands to touch
As the winds blow the sweet scent
Through all nostrils
Pulling all the crowd to itself, very charming

But how long did it last?
How firm did it stand?
And now they worship Aphrodite
Even in the temple of the most high
And rejoice in procreation
Oh-how-shameful!

But who is to rebuke whom?
The preacher man was the pacesetter
And the elders are themselves priests to her
How won’t their children follow their steps?
For they carry the adulterous genes of their fathers

As bright as the rose flower stood
As many multitude it attracted
It couldn’t hold them forever
For it lost its attraction
Bright red, now deep black
Still in the midst of greys
A very shameful disgrace!

I fear for the little ones
I fear I’ll labour in vain
Bringing them up in the lord’s way
Whiles others nurture them in Aphrodite’s way
Will the church ever change?