400 Readings | 2 Ratings

Seminarian at the Preachers’ Convention

                                                         after Auden


Will no one listen to my little song?
We chat, we nod—but nothing’s ever heard.
Perhaps I won’t be with you very long.

I know all Jesus preached on right and wrong—
I croon the Psalms and Proverbs like a bird,
though you’ve already heard this ancient song.

Through conference rooms, I pull myself along
and sip a lonely ginger ale—my third.
I may well not be with you very long.

My voice and solemn handshake: both are strong
from practice tending someone else’s herd,
but no one listens to my little song.

I’ve shown up late—I’ll have to fight a throng
to hear the keynote speaker teach the Word.
I don’t think I’ll be with you very long.

I want someone to tell me, you belong,
son—rave on like the Prophets, undeterred,
but no one seems to hear my desperate song.
I think that I’ll move on before too long.


Posted 10/21/11
"Seminarian at the Preachers' Convention" was originally published in Old Red Kimono, vol. 40.
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