On Easter, as a child,
I’d get strapped into conformity
To behave better than any other day
Because Jesus woke up from the dead
To make sure i presented pristine in white
Married to seasonal forgiveness
Hailing the rituals of ages old debt to the earth
Celebrating without sin; with damnation refused
Awaiting Beltane’s lustful repose to greet the blending turn
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Life is a patchwork of moments — laughter, solitude, everyday joys, and quiet aches. Through scribbled stories, I explore travels both far and inward, from sunrise over unfamiliar streets to the comfort of home. This is life as I see it, captured in ink and memory. Stick around; let's wander together.
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My goodness, do you really feel you were forced into the rituals we filled at church on Easter? We didn’t talk much about sin so this bothers me. I’m a bit taken aback at this piece if this is really how you view Easter as a child! Love you, Mom
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Mom,
Step back, take a breath, close your eyes and remove you from my poem. Read it as if you were me. This is about societal expectations pressured into children by traditions so old they’re practically pagan. This is about realization of the hypocrisy of life in death. And it’s not a punch at your beliefs as much as it questions the older obligation