My good and dear brother,
if I may call you that.
I wrote some three or four poems to God,
our common father, and so far,
I have not been censured, neither by God,
nor by the people who have published them.
Today, I dare to address you, Savior
and Creator of the faith into which
I was baptized and anointed.
Allow me to stand with that older brother
in Luke 15:11-32, always righteous and obedient,
who did not agree to the feast for the prodigal son,
who left home and squandered his paternal fortune.
The rebuke of his father does not seem fair to me.
Allow me also to see shudder, fear and apprehension,
in Matthew 18:21-22, where you said we must forgive
not seven, but seventy-seven times.
I feel we are not capable of living that way,
so we would give strength to wickedness and wrongdoers.
May God forgive me, and you as well, but you did not wear
the wedding ring, did not raise a family or have children;
did not know how hard to deal with so little love these days.
In truth, I appreciate it much more when you set aside
a hit of your holiness and, with a saint fury, has revealed
yourself as a human, like us, in Mathew 21:12, where,
“He cast out all them that sold and bought,
overthrew the tables of the moneychangers”.
This poem and all others at this blog, authored by Edilson Afonso Ferreira ©
