fighting for God?

Fighting for God?

Maybe that's when we fight our hardest.

For Our beliefs , our earliest truth.

My grandfather's God lived on the first floor corner room,

Next door to mine, there before Dawn,

He grappled with his demons,

For a full hour, in the dark.

I lay in bed soaking in his sorrow.

Always loved my grandmother's God better.

She didn't have time at dawn for Him,

I sat dangling my legs on the wooden fence of the cowshed,

At dawn ,waited patiently with the dogs, the cat,

Listening to the sound of creamy milk jetsetting on to the full bucket,

By evening when we returned after grazing the cows,

The church bells caught us always by the Brook

At sunset, the sky aflame, the hills mellow ,

The emerald of the paddy feilds never ending,

And she would stop , lift her hands to the heavens

And we with her.

You know why I dont fight for my God?

Because He is the emerald paddy, the azure of the sunset, the mellow hills and the gurgling Brook,the peasants' smile, the mooing of the cows

My God lies scattered in you too , my friend