Friday, July 29, 2011

I Know Why the Davis Sings

This poem was inspired by my time in Russia, working under the yoke of the repressive Russian Baptist Church.

After months of tirelessly serving the Baptists, they surprised me and Grant by sending us an email listing all the things about us that they disapproved of. (The list of sins included "playing Solitaire on our laptop", playing cards being verboten in the Russian Baptist cosmos.) Oddly enough, in the letter of condemnation, the Baptist Grand Dragon mistakenly wrote my name as "Davis" three times in a row, for no apparent reason.

Thus sparking a poem on the divided nature of my soul in 2004, as I tried to be a missionary.

My apologies to Maya Angelou.

* * * *


The David leaps

On the back of the wind

And floats downstream

‘til the current ends

And dips his cup

In the keg of beer

And dares to drink it dry.

But the Davis stalks

Down his Baptist cage,

Condemned by pastors

Thrice his age,

Accused of sins

Which Betty Page

Would shy from at her wildest.

The Davis dreams

Of a different world

Where flags of joy

And peace unfurl

And Baptists cannot

Make him hurl

By curtailing his freedom.

The David pees

Into the breeze

And stands and laughs

Amidst the trees

The backsplash

Matters not to he,

For the David has his freedom.

But the Davis chafes

At legalist rules

Imposed by

Sanctimonious fools

And silently screams

At Baptists tools…

For the Davis longs for freedom.

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