When I was a kid,
my mom did not believe
in anything she could not see, including God.
My friend Bruce wanted me
to go to church with him.
I asked my mom for permission to go.
She said no,
that I was too young
and too impressionable.
I don't think I ever went
to Bruce's church.
Before long, though,
I was attending up to
four churches a Sunday,
trying to get a bite of that forbidden fruit.
1 comment:
Well said. This is so true.
Whatever is forbidden and repressed, beneath
it all, we are convinced, is sweet to the teeth.
The grimmer the warning of brimstone & burning,
The greater the power of deep, inner yearning.
What all saints, all sinners, have in common at the root:
Would it taste so rich, we wonder, were it not forbidden fruit?
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