Why I Left The Roman Church Poem by Joan Woodbridge

What is it that I ask of religion?

I ask
that you serve
the untamed geography
of my errant imagination

that you serve
as clavis aurea
in the unlocking and
languaging of this
my personal theodyssey

that you serve
as silent witness to this passage
regarding
without remark or remonstrance
allowing thus that error itself
remain my most potent teacher

that you serve
to ignite the desire heat

that you serve
this animal body
that you both claim and revile
with its appetites and refusals
its ecstatic whirlings and hellish remorses

that you lower your gaze
that you tear your egregious eyes from the heavens
that you dare let them linger
on the unassailable necessities
of these, your semblant sheep

That you stand in awe
or
stand away

the fiery tongues of Pentecost notwithstanding
there are among us
those who would remain unmolested
by your inelegant arrogance
those who enjoy an ancient and durable relationship
with the Divine—
not in the least less than yours

*golden key, the means by which a text can be interpreted, used in 16th century theological texts

Joan Woodbridge
9.26.1998-3.2.2014