only in the sense that everyone is, is dying that is, there’s something about birth and life to follow that’s dying, too, but that’s what religion is for, I guess, I’m ten years old, I don’t know very much of anything much less that, religion that is, but at church and Sunday School it’s the most important stuff and even at regular school it crops up now and then even if it’s against the law but what I like best about religion is no tests like in regular school, except for God’s judgment of your immortal soul when you’re croaked. Not that you’re not croaking all along.
Everybody has to die but they don’t
have to be born but I guess they are, I was anyway, ten years ago, my folks are responsible along with God and Jesus and the Holy Ghost, I guess–damn, that must’ve been a crowded bed, ha ha, that’s what I said to Father that got me grounded and a Don’t tell your mother you said such a thing or I’ll wallop you, which drew a Yes sir from me and when I have my honeymoon I’ll tell the story to my wife and hope she laughs, that should break the tension, making love can get messy is what I hear but it helps you to sleep and rise again but first you snore louder.
Nobody lives forever, yet they do
in Hell or Heaven, immortality is what it is, of their souls anyway, that’s what I get from church and Sunday School every week, I mean that teaching and not immortality but on the other hand maybe going and listening and singing and praying and plunking nickels into the collection plate is the way to eternal life and I have perfect attendance so I’m on the right track to Heaven, then again you live forever even in the Bad Place–the quality of your death must be what matters but when I asked my teacher she said Please.
Nobody lives forever unless they’re
dead they say at Sunday School and it kind of makes sense, when you’re alive anyway, a paradox is what I guess that is, a fancy word that means impossible but so but then that’s religion through and through so if there really is a God, which I sort of doubt but then I’m only ten years old, He won’t be very easy to understand, or She, mysterious ways is what God’s got I’m told at Sunday School and it’s funny that I can believe that but can’t believe in God or Jesus or the Holy Ghost or even the Mighty Thor or Hercules. But who believes in me?
Gale Acuff has had hundreds of poems published in a dozen countries and has authored three books of poetry. He has taught tertiary English courses in the US, PR China, and Palestine.